


Hailey

by Foreverforgotten1



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foreverforgotten1/pseuds/Foreverforgotten1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hailey is Sherlocks new roommate - and she's barely accustomed to his weird ways.</p>
<p>One day she starts a game with Jim Moriarty, the man with the cold eyes and cruel plans. Each round could save one of her friends lives.</p>
<p>She counted on there being endurance.</p>
<p>She counted on there being pain.</p>
<p>She didn't count on falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! First story so be nice. Tell me if you want it updated! Thank you x

Hail 

"Another unsuccessful date?"

I sighed. Perhaps since John had left my new roommate in an emotional state, or because he simply did not like me, Sherlock chose to analyse every unsuccessful thing that has ever happened to me.

"Sherlock, please. He was.. Nice."

I set my scarf down, and opened my laptop to send a message to my best friend, Sam. Sam was the most chatty person I knew, also the 4th person to be banned from the apartment. 'Her speech is so dull she decides to ramble on to make up for it.' Sherlock had said as he shoved her out of the door.

"Nice meaning he owns a lot of cats, still think his band will take off and still lives with his Mum?"

I clicked my tongue. Detective or not, he hadn't seemed to deduce boundaries. Fortunately, I had my own deductions. For one, Sherlock although hostile hated living alone - he didn't need another person to split the rent but he did need another person to keep him sane. I couldn't tell if it was a blessing or a curse that he chose me out of all the other Sherlock wannabes who applied. Admittedly, I used to marvel over the detective until I really got to know his sharp personality and annoying traits.

"John's cancelled then?" I asked, sitting across from him.

He shrugged, crossing his legs in a way that made me feel like he was shutting me out. I wanted to try though - try to get through to this quirky man.

"Guess we both had bad dates."

Sherlock sighed irritably.

"John is not my boyfriend. If I did have one, he'd be classy. And clever. And able to properly grow facial hair."

I frowned.

"So you'd be dating yourself."

"That description is nothing like me, Hail. The only time I have ever pulled off facial hair was when I drew it on in the restaurant that time, wasn't that fun John? You didn't even recognise me."

I tried not to take it offensively. The clever man did that sometimes. He forgot I wasn't John, and he forgot I wasn't extraordinary and he definitely forgot I didn't take notes or blog about him.

"It's Hail."

"No, the weather forecast is sunny." He said absentmindedly, shutting his eyes and humming some classical tune.

"No, my name is Hail." I said, confused as usual at the end of our short chats.

He gave me an uninterested look as I slunk off to my bedroom, sighing. I didn't have any other living options, and I suppose Sherlock wasn't the worst roommate - I guess he was just strung up on John.

Sherlock appeared at my door whilst I got into my bed.

"Molly's coming over - don't natter with her like usual."

I looked at him. For a smart man, he could be painfully irritating & dumb.

"I am in bed. What do you think I'm going to do, have a party?"

His eyebrows raised like they always did. The emotion on his face was a mix between confusion and pain, before he became emotionless.

"Don't do that, you know I don't like that."

"Do what?" I said sarcastically, turning over as a hint to get him out of my room.

"Sarcasm. You do it a lot. I don't like that."

"You do it a lot too." I pointed out.

"Yes but it's a switch I cannot turn off - you however, know when you're doing it because you think, I can see the words running through your mind, planning the tone and the complexity of a sentence before you say it - quick wit with a lot of process."

I gritted my teeth, waiting until the door was closed until sighing. This man was impossible. How John could live with him when he was being Sherlock all day and night made me wonder what kind of relationship they had..

Of course, I was ridiculous - John had Mary and baby Laura, & Sherlock had Molly. Well, he insisted on keeping their relationship a secret from me, but I could tell there was something there.

From just being around Holmes, I had become a little more attentive, a little more intuitive.

And I hated it.

-  
"Why must you insist on working at that shamble?" Sherlock quizzed, not looking up at me over his newspaper.

"It really has been a while since your last case. What is it, ten days?"

"Thirteen. But I'm not counting." He said, drumming his fingers as he continued to read.

I frowned. Normally Sherlock would be done with the paper in two minutes but he was poring over it as if he needed to absorb every word. 

'Small habits can tick you off - abnormalities that aren't quite right.' 

I shook my head to clear it. I needed to get out of this cluttered apartment before I killed myself, or worse, I ended up mad like him.

"Would you like me to cook dinner tonight?" I asked, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"I have a case."

"No you don't." I replied dismissively.

"Not yet, but there will be one. Case of who gets food poisoning from your cooking. John would have come up with a snappier name."

 

\--

My job was simple; don't drop anything. I wasn't quite a waitress, more a tour guide - destination? Your table. I was the one who showed people to their seats and smiled as they asked for colouring books and extra menus. I wasn't even allowed to get them - I just had to tell another waiter to get them.

"Table for 4?" A lady asked.

"Certainly." I said,turning on the charm and leading her and her party of three to their table.

I earned minimum wage and didn't even get tipped, yet I still stuck at the job. My Mum always said Perseverance was everything. 

Sam came past with some leaflets and dropped them into my arms. I went outside into the busy street to pin them up when wind blew them everywhere, hitting into the scurrying backs of passing Londoners. Cursing, I reached to pick up some of the ones that weren't trampled, but got knocked down by some guy.

I wasn't hurt - at least, I wasn't broken. Maybe it was the sadness of my dead end life, or that I had cuts on my knees and dirt on my palms, but I felt like crying. Of course, Sherlock would tell me to 'stand up and get over it', or that 'pain is in the mind, Hailey.', but I was feeling like an invalid - no recognition in my home, or at my job, or even in my dating life.

A hand stuck out in front of me, disrupting my chain of thought.

"Excuse you, I'm trying to have a sad moment here." I said, looking up at the person.

Dark eyes and a pale complexion looked back - he looked like a bad guy. Knowing Sherlock, and the fact the Bistro I worked in was opposite 221B, he probably was.

"Look, do you want help up or not?"

His voice had an Irish accent, his eyes had a evil glint, but his hand was still firmly stuck out. Cautiously, I took his hand, and he pulled me up in one fluid motion.

"Sparrow." He muttered.

"What?" I asked.

"Light as a sparrow. It's a phrase."

"I know, it's well known." I said, squinting my eyes.

His breaths were smoother than the crease- free suit he was wearing as we stood in silence. It was a rather hot day to be wearing a suit, which made me on edge. Damn Sherlock - in theory his teachings should make me feel safer, not that everything is a threat.

"I should call you that."

"What?"

"Sparrow."

"That's not my name."

"Of course not, it's Hailey, from North London, the one with the crappy job and unusual roommate. How is dear Sherlock?" He quizzed inquisitively, cocking his head to his side.

"I prefer Hail." I shrugged, offering a smile and a handshake.

Fear is the enemy, do not show your fear. I'm okay, I'm not freaked out. This guy isn't creepy as fudge. He wouldn't pull anything in front of the restaurant - would he? Nope, no fear.

"I prefer Moriarty." He said, taking my hand and shaking it a little too hard.

"It doesn't matter what you prefer, since we will never meet again." I stated factually.

His voice rang out just as I was turning towards the restaurant and Sam, who was watching intently.

"Wouldn't be so sure, Hailey."

"Hail."

"Whatever, honey."

He stood and stared as I went back into the Bistro.  
\--

I was still weirded out later at my lunch break, waiting for Molly outside the Bistro. I did and redid my chestnut hair, trying to forget the man from before. His name was Moriarty or something. I tried not to think about him.

But it was hard.

He was scary. Not Sherlock scary, who scares you with theories and quick wit and his knowledge.

He was scary because he had an air of power. Mystery. The two things that could give him an advantage over me.

"Hail!" Shouted John.

I waved, smiling. He had Laura in the pushchair as he ran across the road like the sweet middle-aged man he was. 

"How the suburban life?" I asked, unsure whether to comment on his odd socks, or his eye bags.

"It's good." He said whilst shaking his head.

I laughed.

"I'm getting mixed feelings."

"I'm tired. And bored. And I need a case." He said, slumping down on the bench next to me.

I sighed, he was a mirror of Sherlock except a little more down to earth and so much more.. Human.

"He misses you."

"I guessed." He said, pursing his lips.

"It kinda sucks not to be enough for someone." I said quietly.

John looked at me, with recognition and understanding. Of course, up until he left Sherlock, I knew he felt the way I did - unimportant and unappreciated.

"He's a difficult man. You feel like you need his approval but you won't get it. It takes someone special. Someone different." He sighed finally, after a short silence.

I nodded, looking at the Bistro, my mind wondering back to the man who couldn't have been much older than me.

"I'm going to go home quickly. Can you wait for Molly?"

He smiled and nodded, rocking Laura and absentmindedly staring at 221B. I unlocked the door, running up the stairs and entering the apartment.

"Sherlock - Moriarty, where have I heard that name before?" I called out, when I heard movements in the main room.

I turned to lock the door, stopping when I saw the doormat. Sherlock never had it wonky. He liked to sit on it and go to his mind palace. He also didn't like to wear his shoes indoors - so why were there shoe prints on the floor?

"Sherlock? You there?" I asked nervously, grabbing a baseball bat my Dad had given to me long ago and creeping into the main room.

Moriarty was lounging on our sofa, lazily smirking at me. I kept the bat clenched in my fist. He screamed 'Bad Guy', but he also screamed 'Pyschopathic'.

"Hailey, nice to see you. Out to play baseball?" He grinned, chucking an apple in the air.

"Moriarty - I'm guessing you're not a client."

He shook his head, still smirking, a bit more intrigue in his eyes. He wanted something, from my amateur opinion. But what?

"So, I'm taking you were a baseball player. Judging from the baseball shirts in your drawers, the stance, the grip on the bat and the eye on the apple as if it was a ball."

He threw it and instinctively, I swung, sending the fruit crashing through the window. Moriarty smiled, hands delving into his pocket. I relaxed, chucking the bat on the sofa and crossing my arms. I could hear the faint door shutting from downstairs - Sherlock would be here any second.

"Your key, I believe." He said, chucking that to me too, which I ducked not to get hit by, stumbling and falling over.

I daren't scramble up as I knew better.

"I'm here to deliver something to you - I thought I'd stay for the view though."

I squirmed uncomfortably.

"Oh, it's okay. I'm just here to give you a present." He said sharply.

I frowned.

"What is it?"

"Oh, you'll love it."

He chucked me photos which I instantly recognised. John, Laura, Mary, my parents, Molly, Sam. Everyone I held dearest.

"We're going to play a game. I'll be in touch." He said, turning to leave but stopping as Sherlock entered.

He gave me a look.

"I know, no dogs in the apartment." I quipped, standing up and grabbing the baseball bat.

Moriarty clutched his heart as if he was offended and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Oh no I wouldn't do that." Said Sherlock, pointing casually at the bat which I was about to swing at Moriarty.

 

"I'd be careful, I'm a bit of a nutcase." He grinned, turning and staring at me.

I truly saw the mad in his eyes at that point. There was a lot of backstory, but I wasn't one for backstory. I put the bat down, but as he untensed, I made a fist and punched him harder than I had punched Sherlock the first time he told me to 'shut my cakehole'.

Moriarty looked at me, blood trickling from his cheek, a new ferocity.

"The game starts now." He said, wiping the blood off his cheek with his finger and then running it down my own.

I shivered - that was disgusting. Tempted to spit on him, I turned and sat on the couch.

"Tick tock." He laughed, walking out of the door.

\--  
"You were quite the hero Sherlock." I said, biting my tongue to stop me streaming profanities.

"It's not a case, it's not my problem."

I rolled my eyes.

"What is your problem with me? If Moriarty did that to John, or Mary, you would've gone all Sherlock on him. But of course, the roommate you had to replace a hole in your heart isn't worth your breath." I said, slapping him across the face.

"You dug your own grave." He spat, walking off and grabbing his violin.

"Screw you!" I shouted, grabbing his violin and stamping on it until the strings were broken and the casing was nothing more than pieces of wood.

He stood there, unmoving. I grabbed the bow and snapped it over my knee chucking it in his direction. He didn't even move.

"Move!" I shouted, chucking pillows at him.

I continued to wreck the place. I threw the laptop at the wall, I ripped up the wallpaper, I upturned the couches. I pulled paper out of drawers and cut up photos of John.

After my little meltdown, I sat on top of one of the upside down sofas and tucked my knees to my chest. I had no idea what brought on my meltdown, perhaps fear.

"It's not my fault." He said quietly, turning over a chair and sitting on it, searching his mind palace for something.

"I didn't say it was."

"It's not yours either."

"It will be if people die because of me." I whimpered.

"No." He said sternly.

"You did something, the day before and I can't remember - tell me what you did. Everything." He said after a few minutes.

"I got up, are a bagel, called my Mom, went through John's blog and went to work."

Shifting, I waited for his response.

"What did you say about the blog?" He asked, eyes snapping to mine.

"I read some cases - the fake suicide , that Jim guy."

He waited as it dawned on me.

"Jim Moriarty."

"You did something."

"Today?"

"Possibly."

"I went to work, Sherlock. I bashed into him and I told him I'd never see him again. that's it!"

Sherlock groaned, sprawling out like a dead man. I coughed, reminding him I wasn't aware of what I'd done.

"You've started a game, Hailey. And Moriarty likes to play games."

\--  
"So we learn to play the game." I said surely.

Sherlock waved at me dissmissively.

"Child, don't be all hopeful, you make me want to hit you with the death frisbee."

"It's a deer stalker, Sherlock." I reminded him, picking up the object in question and placing it on his head.

He gave me a look of such venom hat I removed the hat, dropping it in the midst of the clutter on the floor, courtesy of my mental episode. I was surprised it was the first.

"Hello Sherlock, just ran Laura home so we could - solve the.. " John burst in, smiling and then trailing off as he saw the mess and blood on my cheek.

"Case." He finished in the way that John often did, a mix of tedious aggregation and adrenaline.

"Make tea." Sherlock ordered me.

"No." I replied, flipping so I was upside down on the sofa, looking at the fireplace and surrounding mess 

"I'll do it." John said cheerily, wading through the skip-like conditions.

Sherlock locked eyes with me. He was analysing me but he wasn't reading me. He saw the information but didn't process it.

"Who are you?"

I didn't blink.

"If I knew that, I would've told you."

Sherlock leaned back, folding his arms.

"First, I am going to get you out of this, one, for John's safety and two, of course Molly's, and then I'm going to figure you out." He said definitely.

"Bring it." I said, meeting his gaze before hopping off the sofa.

John came out with mugs of tea. I smiled and shook my head.

"I'm going for a walk, because when I am here I am not trusted."

John nodded, gripping the mug handle tightly but not disagreeing. I knew why. In their business, they couldn't trust anyone because they were detectives - murders and serious things.

And me? I didn't quite wait tables and I was playing a game with a criminal mastermind.

 

-

Where to find the man who thought controlled the city?

I lived with him.

Where to find the man who actually controlled the city?

I had an idea.

Somewhere public - so blended in he's invisible. Someone where police were limited - an enclosed area. Indoors, of course, maybe somewhere where his men have slipped up.

I was wondering, deducing, when my phone buzzed.

Robbery, 5mins- jasper isle museum -SH

The Jasper Isle Museum was only a snort distance from the town centre, so I ran, bursting in through the door into what I expected to be a future crime scene, but turned out to be Moriarty sitting in a sculpture, and two men, both burly and scarred, at the base of it.

"Oh good, you got my text. Wasn't sure if you'd believe me." He grinned evilly, showing off his scarily white teeth.

I must've looked confused, because he then went on to explain:

"A great detective like Sherlock Holmes, no less a posh guy like him, would have the sense to capitalise letters - shall we fix that?" He said, cocking his head to the side and hopping down gracefully.

He leant over to one of the display cases and withdrew a sharp letter opener with rubies and iron laced into the handle. He started to throw it and catch it sloppily, right in front of my face.

"That's better. This first round is to save Mary Watson. It's called Carve The Capitals. If you can stay quiet whilst I carve the letters that "Sherlock" did not capitalise in his text message in my finest calligraphy - Mary can go spot free."

I sensed I was going to be cut into anyway, so I might as well do it silently to save Mary. She brought me a bunch of flowers on the first day of living with Sherlock - a small gesture I'd never forget.

"Let's play then." I said, sticking my arm out.

Moriarty laughed, grabbing my wrist and sticking the sharp object straight into it. Sticking my fist in my mouth, I tried not to scream as he torturously dragged the blade across my skin as slow as humanly possible.

Fire crawled across my arm, flickering pain, sharp and stabbing, following the lines which he scarred ever deeper. It felt like hours, but soon the pain dulled slightly, and he was nearly finished. I daren't look at my arm but I heard blood drip onto the floor.

I studied Moriarty's face - young, pale, cold. He had a look of concentration in his eyes, whilst the rest of his face was screaming 'Look at me I'm a mad evil guy.'

"Finished!" He said happily, dropping the letter opener and wiping away some blood on my arm that obscured the view of the letters.

"Look at it, Hailey." He hissed.

I peeled my eyes from his tilted head to the mess which was now my arm. Alarmed, I struggled to see the alphabet letters he had so honourably written on me.

Wiping away the fresher blood as the dull throbbing pain continued, I made out a J, and an I, and a M.

"JIM, as in Jasper Isle Museum." I mused.

"Or Jim, as in Jim Moriarty." He smirked.

"What a strange coincidence."

"Coincidences aren't real things, they are planned events that appear surprising to the other person." He informed me, turning to leave.

 

Just before he reached the door, Moriarty hesitated. The two men had left sometime between Moriarty explaining the rules and me becoming human paper. We were alone in the art gallery which led me to wonder, where were the guards?

And the people.

"Why are you going along with the game? Sherlock would refuse to participate or find out how to beat me but you're actually playing. And very well too. Why?"

I stopped - why was I? I wasn't trying to prove I was better than Sherlock - of course I wasn't. On the other hand, I was very passionate about my friends, people I had known for little than 4 months.

"I don't know."


	2. The Victorious Victor Of Cluedo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hailey is accused of something she didn't do - which Moriarty didn't do either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the positive feedback! It really makes a difference :)

There was an almost silence hanging over 221B. I felt hardened - like a soldier going into battle- after that short ordeal. My arm burned, but I held it behind my back so Sherlock wouldn't see.

"Good walk?" Asked John from the desk.

"Yeah. I gotta get back to work though." I said, pinning my hair up quickly and frowning as I looked for Sherlock.

I felt a presence behind me and turned to meet the man with the cheekbones.

"Sherlock, don't do that." I said, stepping away from him.

"You smell like iron. Blood."

"It's called Bloody, the eu de toilette." I snickered, hurrying into the bathroom.

I grabbed the sink, steadying myself. I was dizzy, my nose stinging from the sharp smell. Quickly, I splashed water over my arm, watching as the blood cleared and the writing emerged clearer. My breathing hitched as my vision faded slightly and I stumbled backwards.

I was okay. I was okay. I was -

I was a chess piece in someone's game. 

When I reemerged, both Sherlock and John were blocking the door. I folded my arms shakily, staring at the height difference between the two. Sherlock was wearing his coat and John was in a jacket.

"Going somewhere?" I asked. 

"Obviously." Said Sherlock, eyes locked on mine.

No-one moved. I was kind of reluctant in telling them what happened - it would make John sad and Sherlock curious.

"How's Jim?" Asked Sherlock, walking towards the window with his hands behind his back.

I shrugged, heat flushing across my cheeks. I never liked lying to Sherlock, it felt foolish since he knew the lie before I said it.

"He sends his regards." I admitted finally.

"Did he write it down on paper or was your arm enough?" Sherlock uttered, looking at the building across.

"I have work." I excused, walking out of the door.

I didn't end up going to work though. I was way too late anyway. I just didn't want to live at 221B anymore. Baker Street had too many detectives - and not enough at the same time.

 

Never had I smoked, Sherlock discouraged me, even though he went through at least a pack a day. I found myself wondering if it gave the release I needed. Fumbling, I felt around it my pocket for loose change and entered the newsagents.

"One pack of cigarettes, please." I asked, drumming my fingers at the counter.

 

The man nodded and went round back to fetch some. I looked at magazines and confectionary whilst I waited, getting up as I heard him return.

"Thanks." I said, not looking at him.

"You're welcome." Said a bitter voice.

Moriarty had a knife on the counter, stained with blood. His iPhone was blaring music from his pocket whilst he opened the packet.

"Didn't you hear? Smokings bad for you." He grinned, cigarette dangling between his lips as he offered me one.

I shook my head, breathing in through my mouth as the smell of blood became stronger and more prominent for the second time this day. Praying, I hoped Moriarty hadn't killed this man.

"Seeing me so many times in one day is rare, think yourself lucky." He smirked, lighting the end and blowing a smoke ring skilfully.

I stayed silent, silently tracing over the now-healing scars on my skin. Pain shot across, but I daren't grimace. Someone like Moriarty would class me as weak. And I was, in a way, but I was also a good actor. I knew how to play the part of a strong person.

The shopkeeper groaned, making Moriarty turn and look towards the back. Thinking fast, I picked up the weighty telephone and smacked him across the head with it. He fell to the floor, unconscious with the cigarette still lit.

I grabbed the knife, pocketing it. My arm stung as I turned to leave, sparking a revenge plan. Carefully, I stepped over his unconscious body and rolled up his sleeve. Just as he did to me earlier, I began to write my own name. 

Hail.

\--

I couldn't believe I did that. I was a psycho. I could've killed him! Moriarty was crazy, he must've infected me with his poison.

I didn't even know what came over me. I needed to get out, so I whacked him, not a problem. But then I felt the intensity of rage. How dare he threaten me and everyone I know? How dare he carve his disgusting name into my arm?

\--

Sherlock was asleep on the couch, robe spread his torso. John must've left ages ago, I thought as I treaded wearily into my room.

I changed into my pyjamas, an oversized baseball jersey and shorts which weren't visible under the length of the shirt. Crawling in under the covers, I couldn't quite fall asleep.

Moriarty was weird. Dangerous. Psychotic. Everything I thought I wasn't. Everything I was turning into.

To stop thoughts savaging me all night, I turned on my phone.

You do leave quite the impression don't you, sweetie. - JM

I blinked, this was beyond creepy. I cautiously texted back.

I like to think I do - H

Just H? - JM

I don't have a surname. - H

Interesting. - JM

What is? -H

You. - JM

Oh, thanks, I try to be. - H

How can you be so ordinary but so extraordinary at the same time? - JM

What makes you think I'm extraordinary? - H

Why else would I be thinking about you so late at night? - JM

Goodnight, Moriarty. - H

Sweet dreams. - JM

I wasn't sure, I mean of course I was not Sherlock, but I thought Jim Moriarty had just flirted with me.

Of course, he could be planning how to torture me all night.

I was going to go with that.

\--  
The next day 

How could we have a vile of poison, a stuffed bird and cigarettes in the fridge but no milk? I sighed.

"Oi, who drank all the milk?" I shouted, mind void of the events the day before.

"Not me!" Replied Sherlock, midway through a conversation with Molly.

"You're the only other person who lives here you idiot." 

I laughed at Molly's annoyed tone, throwing the empty carton of milk into the bin.

"I'll go shopping."

"Mrs. Hudson will do it." Sherlock shouted.

"She's not our housekeeper." I reminded.

My phone buzzed. I didn't want to look at it and be reminded of Moriarty and how he was getting into my head.

"Aren't you going to check?" Sherlock said, irritably, padding into the kitchen.

"Um, no. Can you tell Molly I'm sorry about standing her up?" I said absentmindedly, not having the energy to shout to her.

"Do it yourself."

"I swear you're just impossible. I'm going for a shower and then I'll come along to your case?"

Sherlock nodded and picked up his violin. He began to play the melody I had begun to love without even reading the music.

"Molly? I'm sorry for standing you up yesterday." I yelled.

"Don't worry. I get stood up all the time by this idiot." She said, leaning against the doorframe, watching him play.

"Awh, we'll have a proper catchup soon." I smiled, hugging her and walking into the bathroom.

Discarding my phone on the floor with my clothes, I stepped into the steaming shower quickly. When done, I pulled my towel around me and skipped back into my room, changing into shorts and a t-shirt.  
Whilst drying my hair, I caught sight of my phone, going crazy with messages. Unlocking it, I read;

You're pretty when you sleep, love. - JM

Sorry about the milk. - JM

Don't ignore me. - JM

I'm bored at work, what are you doing? - JM

Oh wait, you're in the shower. Nice thought. I'll wait for you to reply then. - JM

I can see you reading my messages. - JM

I span around. The curtains were drawn, and Moriarty was nowhere to be seen.

Just kidding. I just guessed you'd be reading my messages. I'm not there anymore. - JM

Anymore? - H

Like I said, pretty sleeper. - JM

You're creepy. - H

You love it or you wouldn't be replying. - JM

Or I'm waiting for you to get this game over with. - H

Talk later, Hailey. - JM

Talk never, Moriarty. - H

I shivered.

My phone buzzed again and out of habit I checked. It was a text from my manager.

Are you even coming to work? - Clarence

\--

The Bistro was annoyingly dull. Literally one customer had entered since I had this morning - and half the staff weren't even in.

Sam kept glancing over at me and the door. I labelled it as curiosity over my disappearance yesterday. To be fair, it was a little weird - before then I had never had a day off, but then again not everyday you get targeted by a criminal.

At lunch, I decided to stay in the restaurant, calling Sam over to a booth to eat with me. She was practically sweating and barely touched her food.

"What's up?" I asked, not bothering to order food.

It seemed kind of stupid to eat when I was so nervous about Moriarty watching me sleep. In my books, this was creepy.

"Nothing." She replied quickly.

I let the silence sink in for a second, about to reply when the doors swung open and Sherlock strolled in. The door banged in Johns face, making him have to reopen it slightly less dramatically.

"There's been a murder, Hailey." He said snootily, eyeing the small Bistro knowingly.

He began to examine the floorboards, crouching as I rolled my eyes. Of course there was. I turned to Sam. 

"What happened here?" I whisper-shouted.

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. I sighed, getting up and heading over to John.

"Murder? How does he know?" I asked tiredly.

John handed me a napkin, one I recognised since it was from here. On it, in cursive handwriting, were the words 'Detective, detective, there's been another murder.' I knew that handwriting, I thought, inwardly groaning. Rolling up my sleeve, I compared the napkins writing with Moriarty's, matching perfectly.

"So it's another game?" I asked hopefully, praying no-one was killed.

Sherlock shook his head, steering me into the kitchen. On the table, the unblinking eyes of the head chef looked back. I stumbled back into John, who looked at me with pity.

Why would Moriarty do that? Kill an innocent man? To get at Sherlock? To get at me? I had no idea where his plan was leading.

Sherlock scampered across the room to get another napkin, half soaked in blood, and passed it to me. Gingerly I took it, mentally crying when I read more writing, this time saying 'the blood is on your hands, Hailey.'

I dropped it quickly, staring at my hands, which blood from the napkin had stained. I was a monster. John patted my back whilst Sherlock tried to get a read on me.

\--

Lestrade adjusted the foil blanket around my shoulders. I hadn't spoken in four hours, my throat too dry and heart too heavy. I was still shivering, reliving the image of the dead chef, pale,cold and lifeless. Because of me.

"We really need to get a statement before we go." Lestrade said gently, leaning back into the ambulance and producing a notebook.

I shook my head. I wasn't going to give a statement to someone who thought I was a mental patient.

Sherlock waved Lestrade away, replacing his presence with his own. My eyes were stuck to the floor, I daren't look anywhere else.

"Is this the first person someone has murdered for you?"

I laughed weakly, knowing Sherlock intended it seriously.

"Yeah." I said dryly.

"First time you've seen a dead body ever?" 

I nodded.

"What did you do?" He asked, head in hands.

"Nothing, I swear. I just don't want to play by his rules anymore." I said surely, first full sentence I had said since I saw the body.

Sherlock looked over at everyone else; Sam shivering in her boyfriends arms; John comforting Jack's family; Lestrade discussing the situation on his cell; and the manager looking at me like I was the one who killed him. Technically I was, but I didn't do the physical stabbing.

"Okay, riddle me this. A man walks into a restaurant. There is no-one at the desk which annoys him because that's why he came there, he wanted her to see. Instead, a blonde girl with the name tag Sam seats him. He lies about being an old friend of the cook, goes to greet him and stabs him. He writes two notes, dips one in blood and puts the other through the 221B postbox later. So why does the whole staff keep quiet about it and not call the police?" Sherlock asked vaguely.

"Fear?"

He shook his head.

"They don't want to be killed?"

He shook his head again.

"They work for him." Sherlock said, a curious glint in his eye.

He leapt up, enthusiastically explaining in a hushed whisper.

"He tells half the employees that don't work for him that there was a bug infestation, except two - the cook and Sam. When the cook is stabbed, the staff that work for him act like it wasn't unusual, forcing Sam into a state of mental confusion, unsure if it happened or not, so she could be there to throw my investigation off! Clever, clever." He mused.

Sherlock stopped, turning on his heel. 

"What did you say earlier?" 

"Nothing."

"No you didn't, you said ' I just don't want to play his game by his rules anymore.' - what did you mean by that?"

I looked up at Sherlock, tears glistening in my eyes.

"I may have hit him over the head with a telephone, cut my own name into his arm and told him he was creepy and should never talk to me again."

Sherlock thumped his head against the ambulance.

"John, get me some anti-stupid spray, quick, before we all get infected."  
\--

I had been given aspirin and told to take my time, before the police threw me in a cell. What else did I expect? For them to just assume it was Moriarty, the psychopathic killer with a tendency to get caught up in things? Yeah I did.

It seemed Sherlock thought a night in the cell would do me well, and did not offer up the explanation it was Moriarty, which stung. For gods sake, what did I have to do for that detective before he let go of this ridiculous vendetta he had over me?

Urine stung my nose as I sat against the wall. It looked more hygienic then the metal bench that was mysteriously stained bronze in some patches.

I felt like crying for about the millionth time in two days. After all this, what had I gotten? A scar on my arm, my name on Moriartys kill list and a dead person. To top it all off, I might be going to prison.

I wasn't prison material! I was an awkward girl with long brown hair and baseball shirts! I wasn't some hardened criminal with cropped hair and tattoos. The only thing me and a prisoner would have in common would be our scars.

\--  
Daylight streamed in through the little gap under the door. I cringed, readjusting my eyes. It wasn't daylight, it was a lightbulb being turned on and my door being swung open.

The police officer gave me a look, swinging the door out further to provide a look at my saviour. A man in a suit with a scary smile on his face.

"Seems like you're in the all clear. Your, er, boyfriend explained it all about you being framed. Sorry for the mix-up, Hailey." The officer smiled.

She looked at me weirdly when I didn't move. Plucking the courage, I walked towards Moriarty and hugged him. I felt sick to the core, but I learnt the hard way that I had to do what he said, or something bad would happen, so if he called me his girlfriend I was going to play the part.

I smiled, letting go and stepping back slightly, holding my breath to stop me punching him in the stomach.

"Can we just get a few details?" She asked politely.

"No. I think Hailey has had enough for one day, don't you think?" He said, dark threat in his voice as he pulled me closer.

I was internally retching at our closeness. Why say boyfriend? Why not friend? Brother? He could just say 'stranger' and get it on with.

We walked out of the station still together, not talking until we rounded the corner and I pushed him away from me.

"Killing someone? Do not act God when you are Satan. You don't get to choose who lives and dies!" I whisper-screamed.

He kept the expressionless look on his face, before bursting into insane laughter. I grew more fearful as he silenced, more moods then a bipolar person taking meds.

"No, you do, don't you, murderer?" He laughed, walking away.

"I - I didn't kill him! You did!" I stuttered, pulling on his shoulder and spinning him round.

"Hailey, I was nowhere near! I was just there to play the hero, bail you out and get the whole police squad off my case." 

 

"It was you." I fumbled, confusion racking my brain.

Sherlock got it wrong? No, Sherlock didn't get it wrong. But Sherlock also didn't tell the officers Moriarty did it. Did I actually kill Jack the chef?

"Did I kill him?" I asked, looking at Moriarty like he wasn't some criminal.

"No. Well, I have no idea to be honest. But just in case - welcome to the dark side." He grinned, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away.

"Moriarty?"

"Yes girl with no surname?" He answered, not looking back.

"Boyfriend?"

"First thing that came to mind." He said slyly.

I shook my head, ducking back towards Baker Street.

-  
"I'm sorry but I can't have a murderer work here!" Said the manager sorrily.

I hadn't had a wink of sleep all week. All I could see was dead bodies and jail cells and laughing and Jim Moriarty, so I occupied myself with going to nightclubs and learning how to make cakes at 12 at night off YouTube.

"Please? I have nowhere else! I'm innocent, you know that! Ask Sam, she saw him do it!" I pleaded.

I knew the Sam thing was a weak argument. Two days ago she had been admitted to a mental ward because the sight of a dead person was too much for her.

"I'll send you your last pay check on Thursday." He said, hurrying me out the door.

My life was In ruins before it had even begun.

I ran up to 221B, clambering the stairs and shutting the door. I felt like thunder. No job, a criminal record.. I slammed into my room, spotting something I hadn't spotted this morning. 

Blood on my pillow. Handprints on my bed. A knife in the trash.

What had I done?  
\--  
"Hello Hailey, what can I do for you?" Jim asked on the other end of the line.

"Did I kill him?" I hissed, walking into the kitchen.

"I don't know, did you?" He laughed.

"Jim, please." I said desperately, looking into the mirror.

My forehead was sticky with sweat, my throat drier than the desert. My eyes looked dull and tired. I felt him exhale, fiddling with something.

"I'm kind of busy right now." He sighed.

"With what?"

"Oh, you know, running a criminal network, holding a guy at gunpoint, that kind of thing." 

"Oh I'm sorry, here, I'll let you finish." I said sarcastically, looking anxiously at the sheets in the sink.

They were still bloody. Everytime I tried to scrub them they got redder and redder, and so did my hands. I grabbed my hair in frustration.

"I'm going to go to jail. I'm going to go to jail." I said dumbly.

"Hailey?" Moriarty said.

I forgot about the phone stuck to my ear.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just- never mind." I said, hanging up and throwing the phone in the bin.

I scrubbed them more, the red colour staining my hands. Blood swished around in the water, my heart beating faster then ever before. I cringed, head in hands. It was official, I was a murderer. I didn't remember a thing. 

Hours passed, Sherlock off at some case overnight, and I was still in the same position, stood over the sink, scrubbing hard at the bloody items.

I poured bottle after bottle of bleach onto them. Every type of cleaning product we had, I even threw in some of the experimental dishsoap  
Sherlock had made on a whim.

I heard the door opening, freezing where I was.

Footsteps creeped round the corner as I spun to see the person who had entered.

"Moriarty. Get out of my flat." I sighed, turning back to the bloody bed sheets.

"Hailey, what are you doing?" He asked slowly.

"What does it look like?" I replied, reaching for more bleach.

"What are you doing?" He repeated sternly, spinning me so I was facing him.

Tears were spilling out of my eyes.

"Don't make me say it. Please don't make me say it." I whispered.

"Last time, Hailey, what are you-"

"The blood won't wash out! I'm trying so hard but it won't wash out!" I shouted at him.

Moriarty looked at me, almost with concern. I started to breathe heavily, leaning on the side for support. Finally, I turned back to the sink.

"Stop doing that." He ordered.

"Doing what?"

"Cleaning the sheets."

"Why?" I asked, pouring in another bottle of bleach.

"Because they're clean! There's no blood on them." He said grabbing my arms and forcing me to sit down.

"T-there is. You can't see it?" I asked, confused.

"Hailey, you're upset, unstable and going slightly crazy." He assured me.

"No, I'm not, I'm fine, look at the sink! Look at the blood! Look at my hands, I'm not crazy!"

"No, you look at your hands."

Looking down, I couldn't see the blood anymore. My hands were normal, pale and long-fingered, just as usual. The sink was overflowing with chemicals, with white bed sheets submerged in the water. I grabbed my head as it started to sting.

"I'm mad. I'm not going to jail. I'm going to an asylum." I whispered.

Jim looked slightly pained, leaning on the doorframe. He had his phone in his hand, but he wasn't on it. 

"You're not crazy."

I couldn't quite nod at his statement. Yeah, maybe not on the outside but on the inside I was a psychopath.

"Why are you here?" I asked abruptly.

"I have the answer to your question. No, you didn't kill him. Someone else did." He shrugged.

"I didn't kill him?" I asked, shocked

"Nope." He shrugged again, walking out and slamming the door.

I sat there awkwardly. I was so sure there was blood on those sheets, but when I looked over at the overflowing sink they looked cleaner than I had ever seen them. Between this and my mental episode on the first day I met Moriarty, I felt like I was going crazier by the second..

The door reopened.

"Are you going to be okay on your own?"

I looked at Jim in disbelief. Was this a joke to him? Did get kicks out of my mental episode?

I grabbed the baseball beside me and hurled it, one straight motion aimed at his head. He caught it just before it hit his face, dropping it sourly.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that." He said, back to his usual sarcastic state.

"Bite me." I huffed.

"Jeez, they say 'Jim, why are you so bad?'. Well, maybe because when I extend a little bit of kindness they see it as a favour owed." He laughed bitterly.

"Get out of my flat."

"Okay, I'm going."

"Thanks though." I said quietly.

He stopped, back turned away.

"For you know, telling me I wasn't crazy."

\--

The sheets were clean and laundered, my trash can emptied and the kettle on for Sherlock's return. I had slept for a whole day, which made the time fly by. I hadn't heard from Sam, or my manager, or even John. Sherlock's company seemed fun now. Okay, not fun. Bearable. 

He slammed into the flat, throwing his scarf down on the chair and flopping face-first into the sofa.

"Take it the case didn't go well." I mused, pouring out tea and placing it behind me.

"Nope." He sighed, turning so he was facing the ceiling.

He reached for his tea, missing and knocking it over, his own body toppling off the seat onto the floor. Sherlock didn't even flinch at the sound of the china breaking, he just looked at the sink and frowned.

"Why does it smell like bleach?" He asked.

"It was the grandfather." I said quickly.

He sat up, looking at me curiously.

"How do you know?"

"It's always the grandfather." I smiled, reaching for a rag and mopping up the tea.

I opened my laptop and tried to concentrate on my resume but it was hard since Sherlock insisted on shooting the wall. The highlight of the evening was when Mrs.Hudson took him by the ear to the corner shop and back, pinching his ear all the way. I had to come, since it was too funny to miss.

After fish 'n' chips (brought around kindly by John), Sherlock suggested Cluedo.

"It's your go, John." He said slyly.

Sherlock had already won and we had only just started playing, yet he insisted in deducing the motives behind each card so deliberately didn't give it away.

"Hailey, you are loosing so badly."

I looked at Sherlock, who braced himself. Last time we played Cluedo, I had given him a broken nose. This time, I intended to go full wrestlemania. I tackled Sherlock to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back, twisting until he declared me the victor. 

Celebrating, I started to dance before getting cut off by my phone tone.

"Hello, the victorious victor of Cluedo, proving it's brawn over brains speaking." I laughed, watching Sherlock, ears still tinged red, roll over in pain.

I didn't even care who was on the other end of the line. I had won Cluedo, I wasn't a murderer.. Nothing could stop the high I was on. Apart from the sad fact that winning a board game and not murdering Someone was my high.

"It was one of my men, in the flat across, with a sniper." Said Moriarty darkly.

Well that stopped it. I gulped, realising this was the next step of the game. Fearful of being deduced by a now silent Sherlock, I started to walk towards the kitchen.

"Oh no, I wouldn't do that. My men have an instruction to shoot whoever walks into the kitchen next."

I stopped abruptly, opening the door slightly. Shots fired as I stumbled back, dropping the phone in surprise. John shouted, dropping to the floor in sync with Sherlock.

"What the bloody hell?" Yelled John.

"I'll explain later. Um, let's just say it's Moriarty's move." I said, running out the room.

Seconds later, I popped my head back round the door.

"If I were you, I wouldn't go in the kitchen."


	3. Chapter 3

Three  
I hugged my jumper closer as I ran out into the street. A cab pulled up, and I got in, not quite sure where I was going.

"Where to?"

"I have no idea." I said before looking at the cabbie.

I groaned. It was one of Moriarty's men from the Museum.

"I'm guessing you do though, so off you go."

I huffed, leaning back in my seat, wondering slightly which one of my oblivious friends I was going to have to save, and what torture I was going to endure.

"I'm Henry Costello." He informed.

"Hey."

"You're chatty."

"Could say the same about you."

There was silence. I had a nervous feeling in my stomach as Henry kept flicking his eyes between the road and the wing mirror. My phone buzzed.

Kill or be killed, for Sherlock -JM

I gulped, catching Henry's eye as we slowed onto a pitch-black road that was like the stereotypical scary movie scene. He didn't break eye contact as the locks clicked. Suddenly, it was just him and me. 

Him or me. Kill or be killed. 

"So how are we going to do this?" I stated.

"I've got instructions to kill you. And I'm taking you've got instructions to kill me. So 'how we are going to do this' is someone walks out alive and the other dies."

I knew that. Of course I knew that. I just needed time, a plan, some calculated move to injure him and get out alive. Having already studied the cab, I noticed the one camera in the corner, the piece of metal in the back and his knife, almost slipping out of his pocket.

We made eye contact.

"Go on then." I said, not wavering.

He lunged, knife hitting the light and gleaming. I scrambled across the seat so I was in the back. Struggling to avoid his stabs, I reached for the metal but couldn't quite reach it. His knife sunk into my ankle, making me scream out, but as soon as he realised he hadn't hit anywhere vital he wrenched it out and made another stab into the seat.

As he struggled to pull it out, his head was bent over. I had the cool metal piece in my hand, and sooner than I could think of a plan, I had smashed it over his head. He yelled out, blood dripping across his forehead. Whilst he was kind of out of it, I clambered back through to the front to try the locks. To my utter despair, it was still locked no matter how hard I shook it.

I screamed as he grabbed my ankle. My hands gripped the steering wheel, but they were so sweaty I let go almost immediately, throwing all my weight into the backseat with Henry. He had his hands round my throat in a flash, squeezing and cutting off my breathing. I kept choking, face turning purple, hands scrambling at his to try loosen his grip. From the pain and the effort, I started to feel faint.

I was about to relax and just let myself get strangled, when I tried one last time, sticking my fingers in the head wound. He screamed, dropping his hands from around my throat. I choked whilst scrambling into the front, smashing the window with my elbow.

Half of my body was out, when he dragged me back and started to bash my head into the glass window. I fought back, grabbing his head and slamming it against the window. He grunted, searching for the knife. I felt my head frantically, nearly screaming when I felt the deep cut on the side of my head.

He lunged forward, sticking the knife in my side. I gasped, falling back into the seat and going still. I was bleeding, scared and about to be killed.

All at once and not at all, I felt it. The will to fight. I felt my heartbeat drumming in my ears, my stomach, ankle and head all bleeding, not to mention bruises round my throat. But none of that mattered. I wanted to live, broken, bruised, anyway I could. Moriarty was right. Kill or be killed. And I wasn't going to be killed.

Henry turned away for a split second, as I grabbed the biggest piece of glass I could and wedged it in his chest. He laughed, blood trickling down his chest, before falling back and being still. I waited cautiously, panic seeping up on me. Unlike before, I wasn't scared of cold-blooded murder. Unlike before, I knew I had to kill or be killed.

Pain stabbing my side, I wriggled out the window, landing hard on my ankle. I started to walk away, hobbling slightly, hand clutched over my side. My whole body was on fire, but I was alive. 

I felt someone behind me, rough hands grab my back, hot breath on my neck. Henry looked at me, ferocious and bleeding. He wrenched the shard of glass out of his chest throwing it away. I thrust my elbow at his face, dodging to avoid his tackle, mistiming and falling flat on my face. Henry grabbed me so I was upside down before throwing me onto a rock. My whole body was bruised and broken as I felt him advance. I wasn't even crying or hurting anymore. I was emotionless, the way I was taught to me.

But then I saw him. Moriarty, blank and expressionless, with a gun in his hand. He stopped fifteen metres short, dropping the gun and walking back slightly. I reacted a split second before Henry, kicking him in the crotch before sprinting to grab the gun. I grasped it, before Henry dived and knocked it out my hand, bashing me to the floor. I grabbed his legs as he shot, narrowly missing me. He dropped the gun as he fell to the floor. This time, I didn't even hesitate before pulling the trigger.

"Holy crap." Jim said, after a minute.

I still had the gun raised, shivering, not thinking about anything. I was blank. I wasn't me.

"Who knew princess would pull ahead to win it all?" He laughed, clapping his hands.

I didn't move, except for lowering the gun and dropping it. Jim was still clapping, along with his other knuckleheads. I didn't even look at them, I just headed straight for the taxi, gun shoved into my pocket. Although I didn't know how to drive, it didn't seem that hard. One window was smashed in, blood everywhere and the steering wheel was half on and half off it's axel, but it drove like a new car. I sped along the street, turning into a random alley and staring blankly at a wall in front of me.

I tried not to think of the events that occurred. I didn't want to think of the pain in my body, or the events that took place in the cab, or the field, I didn't want to think of guns, Henry Costello and especially not Jim Moriarty. 

Instead, my mind wondered to aeroplanes, then baseball, and then whether I had posted my resume to Johns doctors office, and then how I was a bad person because I was thinking about jobs I had to do rather than the guy I just killed.

Headlights shone behind me. I groaned, knowing I was probably surrounded by Moriarty's men. Let me guess, seven snipers aimed on me and twelve on everyone I knew. I slammed my head on the steering wheel.

I was done. I was sick of this! I was a murderer, a psychopath, a lunatic. I had lost a job, killed a guy, gotten into jail, been shot at multiple times, and I hadn't even done three rounds of this stupid game.

Getting out of the car, I did something I assumed no-one had ever done to Jim Moriarty. I walked away.

 

\--  
The stairs to 221B were steeper somehow when you were bleeding everywhere. They were also more... Bloody. I had to stop, lean over and pant for a full ten minutes when I reached the top, before fumbling with the key. John opened the door before I had a chance to unlock it.

"Wow, Hailey .. Are you okay?" He asked, helping me in and sitting me down.

"One of Moriarty's men, Henry Costello. If you see his obituary, tell me." I sighed.

John handed me a cup of tea. He knew not to try fix any wounds until I told him to, since last time I had gotten a paper cut my finger was bandaged so much it looked comically large.

"So, I take it you killed him." Sherlock stated, picking up his violin.

Most strings were still snapped and it was taped together after I broke it, so it played squeakily and horribly, unlike before.

"I didn't have any choice." I muttered, wincing.

"Any other choice?" Sherlock laughed, stopping playing and looking straight at me.

"Your other choice was to not kill him." He spat, striding out.

I stood up, clutching my side and wondering into the bathroom for some bandages. John followed like a lost puppy.

"Fine. You can do it." I sighed, handing him the bandages and sitting down on the baths edge.

He started to wrap my ankle, keeping his eyes fixed on it and mouth zipped.

 

"I didn't want to kill him."

"I know."

"He probably had a family and stuff too."

"Probably."

"Was it selfish of me to kill him?"

"Not at all." He said, finishing and patting my leg.

He moved on to cleaning my forehead, tutting over the blood.

"You forget. I was an army doctor. The men that came to me were all riddled with guilt. But war is to kill or be killed." He said sadly, pressing on a plaster to my head.

I gulped, moving my hair away from my neck so he could put bruise cream on it. 

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

"These cuts and bruises will heal in a few days. Your stab wounds in your leg and side won't go away without proper hospital attention." He answered, not quite looking at me.

"I guess we're going to the hospital." I said, grabbing my coat and realising John hadn't answered my question the way I wanted him to.

"Okay, I just need to phone Mary." He said, pulling out his phone.

I leaned against the door for support since I was bleeding more now than before. It was a matter of minutes until I would pass out from the blood loss.

"And Hail? No. It never stops hurting. It's just sometimes you don't feel it as bad."

I nodded, clenching my side. The room started to spin, before I woozily fainted.

\--  
was surprised to wake up in a hospital bed instead of a ditch, with Sherlock's well known hatred for me. I was even more surprised to see him standing around the bed, along with Molly, Greg, John and Mary. Another man stood at the head of my bed, in a suit.There was also a nurse who had very white teeth which almost blinded me, taking my vitals.

"Hooray, she's awake! I'm glad I misses work for this." Lestrade said fakely.

Molly stamped on his foot. Greg apologised, wincing. He obviously didn't trust me since the whole dead chef thing. I wondered if he would have a fit if I told him I had actually just killed a guy. Guilt swelled in my stomach, causing me to frown.

"Are you okay?" The nurse asked and I nodded.

"It's been a week." Sherlock noted.

"What did I miss?" I asked.

"Laura said her first word. She called Sherlock an idiot." Said John proudly.

I laughed.

"I can walk and she can't, I win right there." He huffed.

"Oh Sherlock, give it a rest." Said the man in the suit disapprovingly.

"Hailey, I don't think we've met. I'm Mycroft Holmes." He nodded at me.

Sherlock had a brother? That was his brother? Mycroft was a name used in disgust around 221B. I had once been referred to as 'worse than Mycroft', which at the time stung a little.

"I'm here because you interfered with my investigation."

"Mycroft, can we not do this? She's only just woken up." said Mary giving him a look.

"And she needs some privacy." Added Molly, eyeing Greg suspiciously.

"Fine." He huffed.

Greg looked offended.

"What have I done?" 

Me, Molly and Mary all gave him a look. We had that shared attitude, being the only girls involved in a pretty dangerous business, that stopped Greg in his tracks.

"Don't you have an apology to make to Hailey?" Molly reminded him.

"No."

"Think really hard, Greg." John said.

He pouted like a kid, looking exactly like Sherlock when he did.

"I am sorry."

"For?" Mary prompted.

"Accusing you of murder." Huffed Lestrade, leaving the room in annoyance.

I sighed, bringing my knees up to my chest. I wasn't in the mood to talk to everyone, I just let them chat away whilst my eyes wondered to the ceiling.

"Sherlock, get off your phone." scolded Molly.

"You're not even texting, you're playing Candy Crush." John said, snatching his phone.

"Just because I'm beating you." He muttered, folding his arms and looking at Mycroft with his look of death.

"Oh give it up Sherlock, you came back in the end. The plane had barley left."

"Don't even talk to me."

"John dear, come with me to get a coffee." Mary asked.

"I'll come!" said Molly.

"I'll stay." Said Sherlock and Mycroft in unison.

I gulped. This was probably the bit where I got ripped apart by the Holmes'. 

"Hailey, you simply cannot have contact with this man." Mycroft stated. 

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because he's threatening to kill everyone I know. By sticking to it, by completing all his games, he'll leave me alone and everyone I know will be safe."

"She hasn't got it yet." Sherlock muttered.

"Got what?"

"There isn't an end to this. It goes on until one of you dies."

I waited for the silence to be broken.  
When it wasn't, I spoke.

"No, that's part of the game Sherlock. I'm going to make the final round. And it's going to be kill or be killed."

\--

Despite having a week of sleep, after a hour of being bombarded with questions from my friends, I was glad when they started to depart, one by one, so I could get some sleep. First Greg, then Molly, Mary and Mycroft. Sherlock and John stayed the latest, John eventually going to grab coffee.

"You don't mind if I smoke in here do you?" Sherlock asked.

"Not at all." I said tiredly, turning over so I was facing the wall.

"Hailey?"

"Yeah?"

"Who did you do it for?"

I decided not to tell Sherlock, even though he probably already knew I did it to save him. Perhaps the gesture was enough to make up for whatever I had done to him to make him hate me so much.

"I can literally hear your thoughts." He pointed out.

"Good for you." I said, closing my eyes.

"But thank you. For keeping my friends alive. For keeping me alive." He said, before leaving.

I had a few more minutes of shut-eye before John returned, tired-eyed and hands full of coffee. I took one gratefully and sat up, staring at the space in front of me.

"Have you saved her yet?" He said shakily, pale-faced.

"Mary? Yes."

"Laura?" 

I shook my head, tears filling my eyes.

"I'm so sorry." I breathed, wiping my eyes quickly.

"No, it's fine. I just - I want her to be safe."

"I don't mean that. I'm sorry for what I'm about to do." 

I bent to pull on my tattered converse as John questioned me. I prepped myself, before throwing the scalding coffee in Johns face, jumping off the bed and pelting it down the hall. He pursued, chasing me to the lift. I pressed the button just as he jumped through the small crack and landed inside the elevator.

"John please, I can't stand this anymore!" I shouted, pulling off the label around my wrist.

I gasped, my hand was running red with blood.

"John, tell me you see this?" I shouted.

"What are you talking about?" He shouted back, confused and dripping with coffee.

"The bl- never mind. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, just come back to your bed, we can get you some meds, it'll be okay." He said soothingly, reaching in his pocket for his phone.

"No, for this." 

I pushed every button, stepping out quickly as the doors slowly started to close. John stepped to follow, but I punched him in the face causing him to stumble back in surprise, holding his bleeding nose.

"Forgive me." I shouted.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

The nurse eyed me, a deranged mess of blood, cuts and fear, before pressing a button on her pager.

I sprinted out, hailing a taxi.

"221 Baker's street."

The cabbie nodded, noting my apparel.

"Hey, are you okay? Have you been released? You look like you're about to faint!"

I rolled my eyes, opening the door before he grabbed my wrist.

"Hey! Somebody! Nurse!"

"Get off me." I said, pulling my arm free and frantically stumbling out of the car.

Ducking behind the cover of some bakery, I started to panic. I was disorientated, unsure if there was blood on my hands or not. Maybe John was right, I needed crazy meds or something. I definitely wasn't okay.

Searching my surroundings, I had four options. I could stay here. I could steal a jacket off the suit rail which was outside a shop in a 'sale' and try get a taxi looking less like an escaped hospital patient. I could hide in the abandoned warehouse next door. Or I could go back to the hospital.

Quickly, I walked into the warehouse, luckily not being seen by John walking with a tissue clenched around his nose on the other side of the street, talking on his phone and looking around, probably for me.

It was old and abandoned - I think it used to be a mill. Only the floor I was on looked inhabitable, for the others were dark, dingy and looked like the wood paneling was about to fall in. The floor beneath me was slightly wet, all of it looking old apart from a square of fresh wood.

On closer inspection, I saw it had a handle. Opening it, I was surprised to see a set of stairs spiralling down to a brightly lit room. Cautiously, I descended down the stairs to what appeared to be an office reception.

"Hello! Welcome to Moriarty Inc, here for all your criminal needs. First declare any weapons and connect to this monitor to check if you are on the side of the Angels." Smiled the receptionist.

"Moriarty? As in Jim Moriarty?" I asked, dumbstruck.

"If you're asking then maybe you shouldn't be here." The receptionist said, narrowing her eyes.

"No, I know him." 

Her expression went back to cheerful. 

"Okay, have you got any weapons?"

"I'm in a short hospital gown, unless I've got a knife in my knickers, I don't have any space to carry any weapons." I sighed, still in awe that I had found the office of Moriarty's criminal network.

"And do you have a knife in your knickers?" She asked.

I shook my head. Sarcasm was something dished out so frequently by me that I forgot some people didn't understand it.

"I would call you under-prepared. Anyway, I am Noelle, nice to meet you. Can I have your left arm? I promise to give it back!" She laughed, way too happy to be the receptionist to a criminal.

"Um sure." I replied, sticking it out.

"Great! Can I just ask you what your purpose is here?" She asked, attaching a device similar to a blood pressure cuff to my arm.

"As you can tell, I'm kind of supposed to be in hospital right now. I'm here to see Moriarty."

"Sorry, no can do. He's out doing something regarding Project H, and when he returns he won't be able to see anyone since he's booked up. Sorry." She apologised.

"I need to see him."

"His schedule is booked up I'm afraid. If you need someone killed, I would   
refer you to Henry Costellos unit."

I was getting sick of this.

"Alright Barbie, shut up. Henry Costello is dead, and how do I know? I killed him. I am Hailey. I don't have a surname but I'm pretty pissed, so I'm sure Moriarty's schedule can open up right now, or I'm going to have to kill another bitch." I shouted, reaching over and pressing the button to open the door and striding through.

I didn't even flinch at the sight of thousands of burly men stuffed at desks all staring at me, none even objecting to me being here. They all were at least twice as tall as me, flicking blades and things in the air. I cringed internally, but spoke up anyway.

"Moriarty's office." I stated.

They all simultaneously growled. Some stood up, one with tattoos stepping out in front of me and crossing his arms.

"He's not in there."

"Moriarty's office, not Moriarty, get it through your thick skull." I said, trying to get past but getting pushed back, tripping and falling over. 

They all laughed, more getting up and ogling the scene. Noelle hurried in and then slowly backed out at the sight.

"Nobody is allowed in there."

"And I'm not a nobody." I said, getting up and smiling, despite my side starting to kill.

I had forgotten all about my injuries, then suddenly all at once they seemed to hurt more.

"Then who are you?" A guy with multiple piercings asked.

"Property of Jim." I said, rolling up my sleeve and showing him.

"I'm sure he wouldn't be happy about you guys hurting his chess piece." I continued, attempting to get past him but failing.

"This doesn't prove anything." The guy with the tattoos menaced.

"Okay, let me introduce myself." I said, snatching a blade off the guy next to me and summoning courage I didn't know I had.

I jammed the knife into his stomach, twisting until I couldn't anymore, and letting it drop. They all lurched forward, grabbing my arms.

"I'm Hailey." I said clearly, shaking them off and picking up the knife as the man with the tattoos winced and stood up.

"The Hailey."

I winked at him, wiping the blood off the knife with his shirt and smiling.

"But I prefer Hail." I grinned, before plunging the knife in my arm.

They all stepped back, eyes widening. I laughed despite the pain. I knew how to get my way - to act like I was invincible until none of them could see me.

"Oh dear, it seems like one of you stabbed me. Who was it? Maybe it was you, standing in front of me."

They all parted like the sea, playing right into my game. I knew their fear of Moriarty made me untouchable.

"But we didn't.." Said a guy in a suit.

"Yeah, of course, what's he going to believe? One of you knifed me, or poor little Hailey who was already injured, knifed herself?" I smirked.

"You're crazy! You're just like him!" Said a voice from the back.

That's what I had been thinking for weeks, but I didn't even care anymore. My arm started to sting and my thoughts started to poison me, but nonetheless I continued walking towards the empty office.

 

"I'm not crazy. I'm fighting back." I said, slamming the door.

\--

I had spent hours in Moriarty's office, looking out at everyone working away nervously, touching all his stuff and mostly spinning in the spinny chair. I hope he didn't care that I had ripped up a shirt of his to use as a bandage. Wait a minute.. I hope he did care. I was in a fighting mood.

I tried not to think of poor John, and the fact I was putting him, Laura, my parents and everyone I knew in danger with my plan. 

Bored.

Bored.

Bored.

Deciding to screw some shit up, I started to throw things off his shelves, rifling through drawers and upturning cabinets.

I went outside of the office, looking at the workers work. In the corner, someone was shooting at a target board. In another, a girl was tied up and crying. I shuddered.

"He's not here yet." Said Noelle quietly.

Jeez, I thought people working here would be a bit more.. Less under his influence. I guess I was thankful, since if they weren't so under his power I would probably be dead. 

"I'm bored." I said expectantly.

"He says that a lot. Then he starts shooting." Said the same voice who told me I was like Moriarty.

"Then get me a gun." I squinted holding my hand out expectantly.

Noelle rushed forward and placed one in my hand. I hesitated. The last time I held a gun, I had killed someone. I started to panic again, walking back into the office and sitting under the desk, pulling my knees to my chest.

The reality of the situation had just hit me. I had killed someone, gotten injured, gone to hospital, escaped from hospital, hurt John, gone crazy, stabbed someone then stabbed myself. Okay, I was crazy. I looked down at my hands, still blood red. It was just guilt, eating at me. They weren't really bloody.

As soon as I thought that, as if it was a miracle, my hands were clean. It seemed I was only mad when I wasn't aware, when I didn't react to situations. I swore out loud, crawling out from under the desk and walking back out into the office area.

Nobody even blinked an eye, they all just stared at their screens and went back to their usual routine. They all looked scared.

Noelle looked at me, panicked.

"He's upstairs, on a phone call. Here's your chance to escape. You shouldn't be here." 

"You tell me that now!" I exclaimed.

"Crap, he's coming down."

I retreated back into his office, climbing up the pile of his stuff and sitting on the top like it was a throne.

I could see him storming in. He didn't look like the game master I knew him as. He looked scary. Everyone cowered, as he shouted, using a lot of hand gestures, before reaching out and shooting at a wall a bit like Sherlock did. He ran a hand through his hair, stopping to listen to Noelle. Then slowly, he looked up and caught my eyes through the window. I swear he almost smiled, before striding in and slamming the door.

"I'm taking it that you're not here to clean my office." He said, bending down to pick up some papers and starting to read them like this was normal.

"I think I did a pretty good job." I laughed.

"Is that my shirt?" He said, nodding towards my arm.

"Oh yeah, minor stabbing incident."

His eyes snapped to mine. 

"What?"

"No biggie." I shrugged, clambering down the mountain of stuff.

"Who?" He said, an irritated tone to his voice.

"You know, I don't remember." I said, stumbling back at his voice.

Sometimes you forget people are psychopaths until they get angry. Big mistake. He rolled his eyes, steering me out the doorway to the office workers, all silent and looking down.

"Who touched her?"

"That guy shoved me. That guy stabbed me. And that guy I stabbed, I just wanted to point that out." I said, gesturing to tattoo guy, the man I stabbed and another random person.

"Gun, now." He said to Noelle.

She scurried off.

"What was my one rule regarding her? She is off-limits. You cannot touch her. You can't even talk to her if she doesn't want you to. Unless you are told to, for the game that is." 

I frowned. Why on earth would he want me alive, except to have some more twisted fun?

"Wait, you're not going to kill them?" I asked.

Noelle passed him the gun.

"Of course not." He smiled.

I relaxed.

"I'm going to make them pay. And then kill them." 

He raised the gun, and out of annoyance, I stepped in front of him.

"No. You can't do that! It's wrong." I scolded.

"Hailey, please step out of my way." He said tiredly, trying to push past.

"No. You don't get to choose who lives and who dies."

"Deja vu, much?"

"I do." I said, producing the gun from behind my back.

I retreated so it was pointed at him, but I was at a safe distance.

"You're going to hurt yourself." Moriarty said, lowering the gun.

I lowered mine too. He stared at me for a second, before a bang sounded. Then another. Then another. I didn't even want to look as I heard three bodies hit the floor. I raised my gun again as he dropped his.

"Why did you do that?" I said, shaking.

"Some people need to learn, Hailey."

"You didn't have to kill them. None of them did anything wrong."

"You should be thanking me. Two of them injured you, and the other one, well, I don't need men who can get injured by the likes of you."

I blinked.

"They don't need to be taught lessons! Nobody stabbed me. I stabbed myself because I was playing a game."

He laughed.

"And what game was that?"

"A bit like Kill or be killed."

"Are you still on that?" He laughed again, making a face and walking straight up to me.

I stared at him straight in the eyes.

"See, the game I play has two rules; you kill, then you be killed. I'm going to kill you, then I'm going to kill myself."

"You wouldn't do either."

"Wouldn't I?"

I shot at the wall beside him, the bullet so close it could've hit him if he were an inch to the left. But Moriarty didn't even flinch.

"I simply cannot allow that." He said, gesturing to the two people closest to me.

They took the gun out of my hands, before pinning my arms behind my back. Moriarty walked forward, hands in pockets.

"I once thought Sherlock was like me. He was, he still is. I once thought you were just like me. But you aren't. You have the ability to walk the line between good and evil. You can look into the eyes of the devil and look like the most innocent of them all. And you can look into the eyes of God and look like the fiercest of them all. You are both bad and good which makes you dangerous. And I simply cannot let you kill yourself."

"If I'm so special, why are you trying to kill me at every opportunity?" I pointed out.

"Have you stopped to think how you magically know how to kill a fully-trained criminal? Have you stopped to think about what your injuries would be doing to someone else? Have you realised why Sherlock took you in as a roommate? Why I'm playing this game?"

I shook my head.

"Because you are extraordinary."

\--  
"Hello, I'm here to check my girlfriend back in." Said Jim, smiling at the receptionist, who nodded and walked off to get some files.

We waited, me looking longingly at the door. Moriarty looked at me, almost as if he was daring me. I took a hesitant step towards it before being yanked back, just as the nurse returned. She looked at his hand around my wrist, obviously sending my discomfort. I slipped my hand through his and smiled a phony smile. His hand was warmer than I had expected, but even so I didn't want to be holding it for longer than I had to. She bent down to grab something.

"It looked like you were about to snap my wrist off." I shrugged.

He nodded, leaning against the desk.

"Okay, name?"

"Hailey." He answered before I could.

I gave him a look.

"Hailey...?"

"Hailey Holmes." I said quickly, the surname I had always used.

"Ah. Your brother was in here a minute ago searching for you."

I gulped. That was not good.

"She did a runner, straight to me." He informed, pulling me closer and smiling.

"I'm not going to get in trouble, am I?"

"No, of course not. We just need to keep you in for longer than planned."

"Why?" I asked.

"Mental assessment." The woman said quickly, leading us to the room I was in before.

"What?" Spat Moriarty.

I squeezed his hand to calm him down. He responded by taking a deep breath.

"Why on earth does she need a mental assessment?"

"Just standard. Have you been having any symptoms of seeing things?"

I eyed Jim before looking at the floor.

"No, she hasn't."

"Any trauma been experienced?" The nurse asked, writing it down.

"My .. Friend died recently."

She nodded, scribbling that down.

"We're just going to do some tests to make sure you aren't concussed, and then assess your other injuries." She stated, leaving the room.

I didn't let go of Moriarty's hand.

But he didn't let go either.

\--

"You don't like needles?" I asked as Jim winced at another one going in my neck.

"In my job, needles are always full of drugs or something."

The nurse looked at him funnily.

"And whereabouts do you work?" She said hesitantly.

"I work in IT."

I stifled a laugh. He gave me a look.

"You know, I think I'm just gonna go." He said, running a hand down his face.

Something twinged inside of me. I didn't really want him to leave - he could be good company when he wasn't trying to murder me.

"Stay right there Mr.Moriarty."

The cop who had let me out the other day strode in, smiling.

"Officer Melanie, I'm sure we met before, Miss.Holmes, Mr.Moriarty." She nodded at us.

I smiled weakly as Jim sat back down, drumming his fingers on the side table.

"Are we all done here?" Officer Melanie said to the nurse, who nodded and left.

"I'm here on the authority of the local police, I just have a few questions about your injuries."

I nodded, scooting away from the woman as she produced a notebook and a pen theatrically. Moriarty and me caught each other's eye, trying insanely hard not to laugh. Of course, that could just be the meds.

"Okay, standard procedure. For the record, I inquired about your injuries and none of your family or friends provided an answer. The local police would never usually disturb the victims."

"Hold on, victim?" I asked, confused.

In my eyes I wasn't a victim. I was the murderer. I gulped, shuffling in the chair slightly.

"Describe your relationship with Mr.Moriarty." She requested.

"Um.." I started, not sure how to phrase it.

She looked up expectantly. I searched the room for inspiration, finally deciding to just spin the truth in a good way.

 

"We certainly challenge each other, but I would do anything to save my- um, I would do anything for him, I meant, even kill a man if I had to! We love to play games, I'm currently winning." I said, trying to add some enthusiasm to my voice.

 

Melanie obviously didn't buy it, keeping eye contact with me as she scribbled.

"Okay, and do you fight often?"

"All the time." I said before mentally slapping myself.

"About?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

I looked around, avoiding Jims eye. Spotting some paper, it reminded me of the office scenario from earlier.

"I redecorated his office the other day and accidentally threw out some papers. I'm sorry sweetie." I smiled.

"Has he ever abused you?" She asked sincerely.

I didn't quite know what to say. Moriarty and I were horrible actors but did it really come off that way? I guess everything we did was fake and forced, it probably gave the impression of a controlling relationship. Anyway, technically he hadn't hurt me. He told other people to.

"Nope, never. "

The pain meds were starting to kick in, making me wish the interview would be over soon.

"Are you sure? Because the bruises, the scenarios you keep getting mixed up in, lots of tension in this room all add up to a controlling relationship." She recited like she was reading a list.

"No, really we're fine. He could never have control over me. I'm too much of a - what's the word I'm looking for?" I said, confused.

"Pain in the ass?" Moriarty joked, much to Melanie's disappointment.

My head felt all fuzzy as she continued her questioning.

"So how did you get the injuries?" She asked me.

I yawned.

"Are you taking this seriously?"

"Leave her alone, she's just been dosed up on a ton of pain meds." Jim said squeezing my shoulder.

I was so very tired, and Moriarty had a nice arm to lean against. Soon I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

"We can continue this interview tomorrow, if she's not up to it."

"Let's finish it now." Moriarty said firmly.

I shifted, wishing they'd shut up so I could sleep.

"How did she get her injuries then?" She asked pointedly.

"Henry Costello attacked her, before he committed suicide. Today she went a little loopy and stuck a knife in her arm to prove a point."

"Is that spelt Costello or Castello?"

"Costello."

"I see."

There was brief silence, in which Melanie shifted and coughed.

"How long have you two been dating?" She inquired, pen scratching furiously on the paper.

"A few months."

"Really? You look closer than a few months." She said, surprised.

"She's something else entirely." Moriarty said cooly.

"You won't be saying that after you dump her." Melanie laughed.

"If I dated her I would never dump her."

"You are dating her."

"Yeah."

The silence this time was full of tension, and even though I was half conked out, I could feel the suspense.

"Mr.Moriarty, I know who you are. The mastermind behind a huge criminal web. You're a bad guy and we will send you to jail."

"Your point is?" He smirked.

"My point is, she might not see you as a bad guy. Love does that to people. And if you do something to prove you're bad to her, then it'll break her."

He tensed.

"She knows. And I think it's already breaking her." He said quietly.

"Alright, make sure she gets plenty rest." She sighed, getting up and leaving.

"Thank you officer."

\--  
I stared up at the ceiling. I had barely slept, despite the medicines making me want to, thinking of what had happened the night before and what was to happen when I faced John.

Jim had left hours ago, sometime when I had gotten a little sleep. I couldn't quite figure out how he suddenly got so good at acting. I nearly believed him. 

A knock sounded. I gulped, sitting up, but not letting them in. 

"Oi, Hailey." Sounded Greg.

I got up, deciding against letting them in, locking the door and wedging a chair under the handle.

"Hail?" Said Molly. 

I rolled down the blinds so they couldn't see, pressing my forehead to the door. Someone rattled the handle. My stomach fluttered, in the nervous, bad way.

"Hailey?"

I stopped at Johns voice. He probably hated me, after throwing coffee at him and giving him a nosebleed. I had to, he never would've let me leave.

I hadn't left to find Moriarty. I originally left because I couldn't face what I had done, Moriarty just getting in the way. I was mad at him, for something I did. It was his fault Henry died.

It was my fault Henry was murdered.

"I can't do this." I whispered, barely blinking, tears clouding my vision.

"Hailey, we're going to wait in the lobby, until you want to talk to us." Mary said tiredly.

It was clear she had been laboured with Laura all night. Poor John was trying to find me. Little did he know, he can't find someone who hasn't found themselves.

\--

"Hailey, I'm going to need you to open the door. I'm Nurse Weller and I have a right to be allowed in this room." 

It had been four days since I barricaded the door, not one nurse even attempting to come in. Nonetheless, today I hadn't moved from my position in over three hours. Countless times, someone had tried to enter, countless times they had failed. I hadn't eaten - not that I would want to - or talked since yesterday morning, causing my stomach to growl and my throat to become dry. Gulping, I got up, dried my eyes and dragged the chair away from the handle. Sighing, I slowly unlocked the door, gesturing for the nurse to come in.

She bustled about, sanitising her hands and checking my charts. I sat vacantly, not quite with it. Molly darted in, shutting the door behind her.

"The others were asleep when the doctor said you could be released, so I grabbed you some clothes. You can stay at mine if you want." She said, handing me a bag.

I smiled weakly, the nurse nodding and handing me some aspirin and a glass of water. The pills tasted like chalk and made me choke, but I swallowed them and waved to the nurse as she left.

"Thanks Molly. I guess John told you about my freak out." I mumbled sheepishly.

She nodded, almost as sheepishly.

"It's okay though. I would've done the same." 

"Really? You don't look like the type to escape from hospital." I chuckled.

Molly puffed out her chest indignantly, looking kind of ridiculous as she did so. She started to have a coughing fit, which made it even funnier, mixed with concern. When she stopped, she started to laugh.

"Yeah, you're right. Where did you go anyway?" She questioned.

I shifted, unsure to tell her the truth or not. Molly dated Jim, right? Or was that some other person Sherlock had told me about the day I moved in? I'm sure it was her, maybe she wouldn't take kindly to my whereabouts last night.. I decided to zip my trap.

"You know, looked at the London scenery and things like that."

She nodded, turning around so I could change. In the bag was a t-shirt, a red sweater and some shorts. It was a different from my usual oversized baseball t-shirt and leggings, which I couldn't tell was good or not.

"Are you okay?" she asked suddenly, as I tied up my shoes.

"What do you mean?" 

"Well you've not been yourself recently. No, you've been yourself. Just kind of.. You but not you. Almost but not quite." Molly fumbled.

I looked at her as she fidgeted. Of course I wasn't myself. I was a murderer, a psychopath, a lunatic.. I was practically the female version of Jim Moriarty.

"No. I'm fine."

Molly nodded stiffly. I nodded stiffly. We may not have been as smart as Sherlock, but both of us knew I was lying. And none of us questioned it.

\--  
I sat on the sofa, hugging a cushion. Making small talk with Molly was super hard since we both felt the weirdness in the room. We were watching horror movies, which I wasn't scared of anymore since I was practically living one.

I smiled as she handed me a mug of steaming coffee, taking it from her gratefully. Molly sat on a different sofa, unusual since she normally wanted to sit next to me. Yeah, she was that kind of girl.

Then I remembered; the last time I had coffee I had thrown it in her face. Ah. Deciding to drink it to ease Molly's fear, I downed some of it and put it on the coaster next to me. She smiled slightly and shifted uncomfortably.

Was this how my life was going to be? Everyone scared of me? That sucked. Like, really sucked.

All of a sudden I wasn't in the mood for horror movies, bidding Molly goodnight and limping to the guest bedroom. I crawled in the bed, still clothed. Honestly, clothes were the least of my worries right now.


	5. Chapter 5

Five  
I had slept wonkily on my side, a mistake I now regretted. It was 2.45 in the morning and I had no plan to go back to sleep. 

Molly's flat was clean and well-kept compared to ours, with the exception of her desk, full of photos of her and Sherlock. Obsessed? Probably. But she finally got him, in a weird way. I mean, if Sherlock had feelings (which I was like 60% sure he didn't) he would go straight for Molly.

I changed out of my clothes into my pyjamas, since my outfit was too hot to sleep in, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Quickly, I grabbed a drink of water and padded back into the room, frowning as my phone was going crazy. My heart rate elevated - when my phone buzzed, it was never good.

Instead, I threw my phone down the toilet, flushing until I couldn't see it anymore. Molly got up sleepily, walking half asleep into the bathroom to see me staring at the toilet. She leaned against the doorframe, squinting at the scene before her.

"Are you okay Hails?"

"I'm fine."

"Want to go back to bed?" She asked.

Before I could answer, Molly's phone started to ring. Then the house phone. Then her laptop started to bleep, and the TV. I shoved her into the bathroom, locking the door.

"What are you doing? Hang on, let me get this.." She said, fumbling in her dressing gown pocket.

"No!" I shrieked, snatching her phone off her and pressing decline.

"What's happening Hailey?" She asked, confused.

"Nothing. He's just trying to get me to play his game." I stuttered, running a hand through my hair.

A red dot appeared on Molly's forehead. My eyes bulged, my heart beating so hard that it felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.

"Fine!" I screamed.

Molly looked horrified as she saw what I was looking at in the mirror. A single tear started to run down her face.

"Fine, Moriarty, I'll play your game." I whispered, as the dot disappeared.

"I'm so sorry Mol."

She didn't even look up.

"Go to Sherlock."

"What about you?" She asked, eyes brimming with tears and hands shaking.

"I'll be okay. If he wanted me dead he would've killed me already." I shrugged, hurrying her out the door.

I hailed a cab, paying and watching as it drove out of sight. Relived that Molly was safe, I shivered, standing out in the street in just a shirt and shorts. Not knowing where to go, I walked to the warehouse.

"Hey, Noelle."

She pursed her lips, pressing the button and waving me through. There weren't as many people in the office space this time, fortunately. Moriarty was sitting in his office, eating an apple. He waved as if we were friends, grinning like a kid.

"Can we just get this over with? I really don't want to outstay my welcome."

"No, really, you're always welcome." He smiled, rushing me out of the office.

He pointed at a box on the floor. On closer inspection, it wasn't a box, but a device with a lot of wires and blinking lights. I was assuming it wasn't a really weird alarm clock. 

"Bombs, my sweet Hailey, are the heart of my organisation." He announced.

I nodded mechanically, before being pushed towards it by some random guy. The counter was slowly ticking down from 30. 

"Stop the bomb." He said.

I choked. Half of me wanted to try, another half wanted me to let it explode.

Instead of feeling fear, I started to laugh.

"What?" He said, pulling out his gun and aiming at me.

"I'm not scared of dying anymore. You've just put a bomb in front of someone who is ready to die. Either you're testing how far I believe this, or you are absolutely stupid." I chuckled, sitting back and lounging.

It wasn't a full lie. I saw the benefits to dying - no more Moriarty, no more fear, but it was also the end of my existence. It was no more of the happiness, the good feelings, no more Sherlock or John, Molly or Mary, or even any more Lestrade. It was the end.

20.

I bit my lip.

"You think you're ready to die, Hailey, but you're not."

15.

"You think you know what you're dealing with, but you don't."

10.

"You think that you're insane, but you're not."

5.

I didn't move.

4.

I hoped that Moriarty was bluffing.

3.

I looked up to see that if it blew up, Moriarty would die too.

3.

I smiled.

1.

I braced myself, closing my eyes.

0.

The bang never came.

Moriarty looked at me, a mix of pity and annoyance.

"Er- Boss, why did you turn it off?" asked a bald guy with a vest on.

Jim turned, aiming right between his eyes and shooting. I flinched, learning to look away otherwise I wouldn't be able to sleep.

"Interesting. Not killing yourself - other people."

I stared at him.

"Someone getting killed doesn't bother me."

"Then shoot Tyrone." He said, throwing the gun at me.

I needed to do this, maybe if he saw killing other people didn't scare me, he wouldn't go after my friends anymore.

"He hasn't done anything."

"If you are okay with other people getting killed, then you don't need a motive." He shrugged.

Tyrone looked at me, expressionless and blank. I aimed for his foot, firing and then chucking the gun on the floor.

"You told me to shoot him. I did." I said.

"Aren't you so clever? Sherlock's rubbing off on you."

I smiled, despite the hatred I felt for him. He was insane. He made me want to be sick.

"You're not as good an actor as you think, Hailey Holmes." 

"It's a-"

"Fake surname, I know, you've told me. Quite fitting isn't it? You're practically his little sister."

I felt like punching him, harder than anyone had punched anyone. Moriarty was smug, stuck-up and an all-round bad guy.

"When does this game finish?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"You."

We stared at each other, Tyrone cursing at his bleeding foot in the background. I hadn't noticed before how attractive Moriarty was, until I got up close.

And if it wasn't clear already, that proved I was definitely crazy.

"Hungry?"

"At 4am?"

"That is the time." He said, rolling his eyes and walking off.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, I want to roll my eyes at you!" I exclaimed, following.

\--  
Unsure of what the hell I was doing in a 24 hour diner with Jim Moriarty, I decided not to order.

"We'll both have a burger." He said, winking at the waitress.

I felt kind of annoyed, trying not to react, which was weird. Why on earth would I react jealously to him flirting? Better her than me.

"Actually, I don't want anything." I said, but she had already walked away.

That's it, I was annoyed at him ordering me food when I had said I didn't want any. Nothing else. No other personal feelings or whatever.

"So how are you?"

"Don't talk to me." I spat, looking away.

"Why did you come if you were just going to be rude?" He sighed, crossing his arms.

"Hm, I don't know, I was scared to death, you just killed someone, you threaten me on a daily basis and that guy over there has a gun not so discreetly pointing at me." I rattled off, counting the things on my fingers.

He chuckled, picking up the menu and reading it, even though he had already ordered.

I started to plan my escape, picking up a my glass and using it to peer at the reflection behind me. Something wasn't right. It wasn't obvious, but I got it in a second. The diner was full of people, all big and abnormally tattooed, at 4.30am. He had either treated them all to an early burger-breakfast or something bad was going to happen.

I accidentally caught Jim's eye, I could see him registering that I knew, but he didn't react.

"Full in here, isn't it?" I said conversationally.

"Unusually." He stated.

"You don't have to do this." I breathed.

"Do what?"

"Find out how far I will go to not kill someone."

"But I'm going to. Knowing this, would you like to order dessert?" He grinned, as our other food arrived.

I shook my head, refusing to eat, choosing then and there that I would kill him one day. Maybe today, in a diner full of people who worked for him, I could at least attempt to maim Jim.

The whole diner had gone silent, all of them looking at me as I didn't eat.

"Not hungry then?"

I shook my head, looking down at my plate.

"You know what, I'm not feeling very well - can I just go home?" I inquired, about to get up but seeing everyone jeer at me made me recoil and sit back down.

Moriarty shook his head, biting into his burger. Looking longily at my knife, I wished I could stab him.

The man sitting at the bar swivelled his stool so he was looking at me, almost daring me to try. I reached for it, before Moriarty quickly put it out of my reach.

"You're starting to get on my nerves." He warned.

"How?" 

"You aren't dead yet."

"You don't want me dead." I matched.

He leaned back, eyeing me. 

"Are you sure about dessert?"

I nodded, biting my lip and trying not to stare for too long at the knife he just put down. He waved for the cheque, his second of distraction enough for me to grab it and aim for him. I was stopped short, by at least forty guns being pulled on me. He started to laugh hysterically.

"Go on. I dare you."

I changed tactics. His organisation was almost all boys, which could play to my advantage - I was a girl. I did the thing I was doing pretty well not to do - I started to cry. Half the guns were lowered and I tried not to grin through my hands after only about three seconds worth of fake-crying.

"What are you doing?" He hissed at them.

"She's hardly going a danger, she's just a girl. Not some super badass chick." answered the man at the bar, instead gesturing for a shot. 

They all turned away, leaving me and Moriarty to it. I stopped faking, brandishing the knife just high enough so he could see it but none of the others could.

"You men are all stupid."

"I could just tell them to shoot you."

"Go on. I dare you." I copied smugly.

He grabbed my wrist, so hard it started to sting and I had to drop the knife to avoid cutting myself. I tried not to let the pain show on my features.

"You forget who I am Hailey." He remarked, not letting go.

"I'm going to kill you." I shouted, reaching for his tie and pulling him forward, trying to get my hands round his throat but being pulled back, tackled to the floor.

People prevented me from trying to kill him, pulling up onto my knees so hard I felt like I might break. Moriarty straightened his tie, rolling his eyes.

"Kill someone, and you can go."

I shook my head as they let go of my arms, offering me a gun. I didn't take it, making Moriarty angrier and forcing me to take it. It felt so familiar and so unnatural at the same time.

"Choose someone. Anyone."

I clocked the real reason he brought lots of men - variety, so I could choose anyone but him, and back-up, so if I attempted to murder him I would be dead in a second. He was out of the mix.

"Anyone?" I asked

He nodded. 

Quickly, I turned the gun around and pressed it to my temple.

"How far I will go not to kill someone? This far."

Moriarty laughed, before turning serious and walking over to me, grabbing my arms so he controlled where the gun went. I cursed - maybe I should've shot myself before he could've moved my arms.

I shook my head, tears bursting at my eyes. Moriarty the gun, making me aim at a random waitress. 

"Just pull the trigger." He said. 

I didn't move.

"Or I'll make you."

Summoning up the scraps of courage I had left, I squeezed the trigger, trying to look away but Moriarty had his hands on my head, forcing me to watch the waitresses' lifeless body clump to the ground.

I pushed Jim off me, punching him until someone tore me off. I was in hysterics, he was practically wiping out the planet for me. Biting my restraints hand, I couldn't take it any more, grabbing one of the steak knives then throwing it at Moriarty, then another, then another the second he let go. I got tackled again, wheezing and coughing.

"I have the power, Hailey."

"No, fear isn't power. Hatred, isn't power! Without your dim-brained followers you are nothing!" I shouted, trying to kick whoever had restrained me this time.

"No, this is power." He said, pressing his hand to my side and making me scream.

It burned so much I felt like I was on fire, pain prickling all over my body. I wished with all my heart I had just stayed at hospital. After a couple of seconds, he removed his hand, making me light-headed, keeling over and closing my eyes. 

\--

I woke up, hair sticking to my forehead. I was at Molly's - was everything just a dream? I fumbled around, spotting my phone. Of course, I flushed it down the toilet so it must have been a dream.

That was a relief. The thought that I had killed another person was horrendous. I sighed in content, walking into the kitchen, past the huge mirror.

I was in my pyjamas.

I clasped a hand over my mouth to stop myself screaming.

All you could see in the mirror was a murderer.

\--

"Why did he do it?" I said, hugging the blanket closer.

Sherlock had let me in reluctantly, mostly because he was lonely and bored, plus Molly had already told him about what had happened and he wanted to fill in the blanks.

"Make you kill a waitress? He's studying you, obviously."

"But why?"

"You're dangerous. You're a weapon." He sneered, drinking some of his tea.

He stood up, wondering to the window and peering out, no doubt checking for any snipers aimed at our flat. I knew Mrs. Hudson was safe, that woman couldn't even receive a high five without them being killed by Sherlock.

"But of course, you meant why did he replace your phone?"

I nodded weakly.

"Because he wants you to call."

I bit my lip, staring at it.

"He gave me his number."

"Hasn't he been communicating with you for months?

"Yeah but always different numbers, that's why I picked up." I said, puzzled.

Sherlock stared at me for a second, before opening a book and skimming it before leaving. For a good hour I thought the conversation had been well and truly dropped, but Sherlock wondered back in, intent on talking.

"He's insane."

"No he's not." I said before I knew what I was saying.

"He's not?"

"No." I said surely.

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm like him. If he's insane then so am I and I'm not insane."

Sherlock looked towards the window, silent. I wanted him to agree and tell me I'm not insane but we both knew the answer

"Sherlock, I'm not insane."

"I heard you the first time." He said.

"Agree with me."

"I just simply can't do that Hailey." He said sadly, patting me on the shoulder.

To be self-diagnosed as crazy was okay, because there was always the option that I was wrong. To be diagnosed by the worlds best detective, that was something else entirely.

"I know I'm not crazy." I said, voice cracking.

"Sometimes people just aren't meant to be sane." He shrugged, sitting down at his laptop and typing away.

"But I'm normal! I play baseball, I chat to my friends, I have a life." I stammered.

"What friends, Hailey? The ones you didn't know until you met me? You don't have a single normal person in your life, and denying it is a real problem." He said boredly, furiously typing.

I stood up, throwing the blanket on the floor.

"I'm going to stay with at my parents for the weekend." I exclaimed, walking off to pack my bag.

"You forgot your phone." He yelled when I was in my room.

"I know, it was on purpose."

I started to pack - not much though. Where I was going, I didn't need much. Whilst Sherlock was examining something, I tried to slip out but he caught me.

"Packed light." He noted.

"I don't need much." I shrugged.

"I can tell what you're planning to do, Hailey. No good comes out of looking for Moriarty."

I looked down.

"He's turned me into a monster. I've killed two people - and he's killed loads for me. I can't tell whether I should admire him or be disgusted." 

"Admire." Sherlock stated shortly.

I frowned.

"Why?"

"It's the first thing you listed. When people list two options they like to list their favourite first as it's the first thing they think of."

I nodded, turning for the door.

"Don't go." He said quietly.

"What?"

"Don't go." He repeated, a little loudly.

I had never seen Sherlock like this. He wasn't looking at me, he was looking at the bottom of the door, his chin lowered. He looked scared and afraid - why?

"I can handle myself!"

"You can't keep doing this to your friends!" He yelled, running a hand through his hair.

I must've looked confused, because he continued.

"Something happens, you leave, you come back wounded and scared. You're slowly going insane and you can't do this to John! Or Molly, Mary, Grey -"

"Greg." I corrected.

"- thank you that was going to keep me up all night. My point is, you can't go out and look for the danger and come back worse. You're hurting your friends! You're hurting me."

Sherlock walked away and slumped on the sofa. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. I turned for the door but couldn't bring myself to walk through it.

"Everything I do saves another person, another friend." I said, putting the case down and sitting down in a chair.

"The waitress. Who were you saving?"

I stopped - I had no incentive. I could've refused, gotten beaten-up, anything. He'd stopped with the motives and started using my own fear against me.

"Myself. I was buying myself time." I said decidedly.

Sherlock's phone bleeped. 

"There's a case in Liverpool - I'll take the train with you to your parents."

I frowned.

"I wasn't planning on visiting, I was planning on killing Jim."

"I phoned your Mum yesterday. They're expecting you."

I nodded, looking down. I don't know who he spoke to, but it wasn't my parents. They were dead.

-

We stopped on the street, the cabbie not looking up. I threw money towards him and got out, not bothering to close the door as I stared at the house.

Smiling fakely, I watched Sherlock walk away before walking into the house myself. I didn't want to go in, even though I technically owned it. Frowning, I saw the light on in the kitchen, and the distinct shape of my brother moving around.

The door creaked loudly as I entered, Mike turning on me with a gun. I froze, holding my hands up as he laughed and put it down, encasing me in a hug.

"Michael, what is that?" I said shakily.

I'd already had enough guns to last a lifetime.

"A present from my employer."


	6. Chapter 6

Six

"Why did you have to turn up?" He sighed.

I turned around and looked at him.

He smiled.

"Nothing, don't worry."

"Employer?" I asked, sitting down at the table.

Our childhood home was unkept and dusty - neither me nor Mike had lived there in years. We both couldn't wait to get away.

"Yeah, he's a little unusual but he pays well." Michael laughed, setting a glass of lemonade in front of me.

"I don't drink lemonade." I reminded him.

He frowned, taking the glass and tipping the contents down the drain. I wasn't surprised he didn't remember - we technically weren't even family anymore.

"What surname did you take? You know, after you found out they weren't our parents." I said, drumming my fingers.

It had been too long, at least seven full years since I had seen my older brother. He was tall, well-built and had scruffy brown hair like myself, although we weren't related, yet I still remembered him as the five year old with dirty knees. 

"Foster, it seemed appropriate, and I went to live with Harriet Foster and her family, remember?"

"Right, and you left me." I sighed.

"Hailey, honestly, you were fourteen. I wasn't going to take some fourteen year old to Ireland."

I shrugged, folding my arms and looking out the window. I felt like I had forgotten something, and then I remembered, I hadn't shut the door.

"One sec, I'm just going to close the door."

"No-", he said quickly, "I'll do it."

Okay, there was something fishy about all this. I sat back down, watching him scurry and shut it, locking and bolting it too. He glanced up and around him before his eyes settled to me.

"Ice tea?" He asked.

I shook my head slowly.

"How about you, what surname did you take?"

"What kind of employer gives out guns?" I countered.

"Where do you live?"

"Why are you acting weird?"

"Who dropped you off?"

Then it clicked. My heart fell to my knees; tears threatening to fall.

"Why did you take a job with Moriarty?" I asked finally, slamming my fist on the table.

He looked at me, gesturing for me to be quiet with one hand.

"Holmes. I live with Sherlock Holmes in London and I took his surname." I stated, clenching my fists.

The last sort of family member I had, and he'd gotten to him! I felt like screaming as I kicked the skirting board.

"I had no other choice, Hailey."

"You could've used your savings! Or came to find me. You know, like you promised!" I shouted.

"Why are you all bandaged?" He asked, trying to change the subject, eyeing the door:

"You didn't come for me. I had to use all my savings on an rented flat in London and worked at a cafe just to practically live."

"Come and work for Moriarty. It pays so well."

"No." I snapped, storming into the living room.

He followed, slightly cautious. This was not happening; my brother was a Moriarty agent. There was a bang outside.

"What was that?" I asked.

"A cat." He replied quickly.

I stared at him, things starting to make me question his reason for being here. Why did he keep looking at the door?

"Water?" He pleaded.

I shook my head, gathering the puzzle pieces.

"I met Jim Moriarty when I lived in Ireland. He promised me everything - I needed money to get to you. And I tried to come back, but he didn't let me leave. He shipped me to Norway to collect something once."

I exhaled, head in hands, stopping short. If Moriarty never let him leave his job, how come he was letting him stay here? Unless, of course, Mike had no intention to return.

"Oh no. Oh God. You stole whatever it was, didn't you?" I stuttered, stumbling back.

He nodded, pinching his forehead.

"I just need to redeem myself, okay?"

"There isn't a way to do that, Mike."

"There might be." He said slowly.

I heard the door open, my heart loud in my ears. 

"Word on the block is that you're what he wants." 

I shook my head, dropping down to my knees slowly and staring forward.

"I'm so sorry, Hailey. I do love you." He sighed, looking upwards.

"No you don't." I said dryly.

"Of course I do! You're my sister."

"I don't have a brother." I said, looking at him right in the eye.

Moriarty's men burst through, all wielding guns and other various scary weapons. There was a weird tapping noise, and I looked to see Sherlock wide-eyed and rapping on the glass doors. He gestured for a second and hopped round through the door so he was in the same room.

"What's going on here?" He asked, narrowing his eyes.

No-one took notice. I signalled for him to get on the floor with me, and he did, rather relaxed.

"So do you do this often?" I joked, hands on my head.

"Ooh, she's a lot more fun when she has her friends." Jim laughed, walking in and clapping his hands.

He threw me a wink and patted my brother on the shoulder.

"As for you, young... Well, apparently you don't have a surname! .. I think we'll let your dear foster sister decide your fate." He sneered.

I looked downwards. He was not doing this to me.

"What? I brought you Hailey!" He said, shocked and backing away.

Moriarty laughed, the laugh that pierced the air and left dread suffocating everyone.

"I could click my fingers and Hailey would come running." He said, staring at me.

I was so tempted to wrap my hands round his throat.

"B-but you said?"

"I told you to bring her to me, not that you stealing half of my goods is pardoned. Now Hailey, what are you going to do with your dear foster brother?"

I knew what this game was. If I didn't give an answer, he'd make it 'simpler' by optioning to choose Sherlock or Michael.

"Tick-tock.." Moriarty said, wondering around the room and looking at the photographs.

"So these lovely people that I met on that cruise the other day aren't your parents?" He asked curiously.

I shook my head.

"Sherlock, now would be a good time to be clever." I muttered.

Unfortunately, Sherlock was working on another case.

"Adopted girl, who finds out she's adopted, runs away and removes her surname so she can't be tracked, brilliant!" He said, looking at me.

"Time flies when you're having fun, right, Hailey?" Jim taunted.

If I ever got my hands on him, I would kill him.

"What is wrong with you?" I asked.

Moriarty turned and looked at me slyly.

"Pardon?" He hissed.

I narrowed my eyes, getting up so I was at his eye level.

"What messed you up so bad that you turned into this?" I spat.

He smirked, spinning me so I could see both Michael's and Sherlock's expressions. Sherlock's mouth was a tight line, his eyes round and full of inquiry; Michael was expressionless.

"Please, I beg you-" I started before he cut me off.

"Don't beg, Hailey, you make me want to shoot you." Jim said impatiently.

I had tried all this before. The only thing I hadn't said was the simplest - I hadn't asked him to stop the game.

"Stop the game."

"It doesn't work like that."

"Please just stop."

"I guess we're shooting both of them."

The men raised their guns as I watched in horror. Almost as if in slow motion, Sherlock bowed his head. Michael smiled at me before closing his eyes. I could see each man individually, beginning to gently push the trigger.

"I give up! I'll do anything you want, just stop this stupid game! I quit, I quit!" I shouted, grabbing Moriarty's arm.

He rolled his eyes, gesturing for them to cease fire. I sat back, pulling my knees to my chest. It had come to the point I didn't want it to go any further.

"Well, if you're going to be boring like that... I guess, gear up, Michael, and bye Sherlock." He said, ushering them out of the room.

I put my head in my hands. I wasn't going to murder anymore people.

"Geez, do you know how hard it is to be scary all the time?" He laughed, dropping down onto the sofa.

I gave him a look. Was he really trying to make me empathise with him? Of course, it was apparent that we were similar, I wasn't the only person who had seen that, but I wasn't going to say anything.

"If I ask you something, will you reply straight? No riddles or hidden clues or challenges or games?" I asked.

"Maybe." He shrugged, squinting at me.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I said.

He chose not to answer straight away, instead getting up and looking at my baby photos. My cheeks flushed pink in embarrassment.

"When I see things that are almost what I like, but not quite, I like to change them."

I rolled my eyes.

"That's your version of a straight answer?"

He nodded.

So what? He liked me, but I wasn't crazy enough for him?

"You're crazy."

"I think we both know you're the crazy one here."

"You make me crazy!" I argued.

"You make me crazy." He shrugged, balancing an ornament on his wrist as it jiggled precariously.

It dropped to the floor and broke into a dozen pieces. He bent down to examine the fragments, choosing one and putting it in his pocket. I watched him the whole time, finally meeting his eyes.

"How do I make you crazy?"

He chose not to answer, instead flopping back down on the chair and pulling out his phone. He texted like there was no tomorrow, not even looking at me.

"For Gods sake." I said, getting up and reaching for the handle.

I swung the door open to meet Michael, whose hand was raised almost as if he was deciding whether to knock or not. I didn't even take a second glance as I let the door swing shut and took a seat next to Moriarty.

"It's not often you'd rather be with me than someone else."

"There's more people than you realise."

He raised his eyebrows, scrolling through his messages.

"Henry Costello, for one. If ghosts were real, I don't think I could face him. Or that waitress."

"Sarah Raytee." He said.

"How do you know that?"

"It's a bit disrespectful to not know who you killed."

I felt the urge to strangle him, but couldn't bring myself to do it. Next to him I felt sane - a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time.

"So when does this end?" I asked hopefully.

He laughed, popping his phone in his pocket and holding out his hand. I was tempted to take it, but refused and stood up myself.

"Maybe the question you should be asking is where does this begin?"

He opened the door for me, gesturing to walk through into the group of his men. 

"Where are we going, sir?" asked Michael.

"We're going to teach Hailey how to rob a bank." He grinned.

 

\--

The car journey to this bank was longer than I expected. My only company was Moriarty, who I didn't want to speak to, one of his men, or Michael. 

"So..." I said, to nobody in particular.

Jim gestured for me to go on, as Mike gave me a look. I knew the look - it meant 'Shut up'.

"Why did you choose to betray me?" I questioned, deciding to target that towards Mike, since he was the one who betrayed me.

"Michael took some of my best import from Germany." Moriarty said, folding his arms.

"Weapons?" I guessed as the other guard nodded.

"Great, so apparently I'm equal to a few guns." I sighed, pulling my knees to my chest.

Out of the corner of my eye, I swore I saw Moriarty shake his head. Did he disagree? Yeah, he probably thought I was less important than a few guns.

"Shall we run through the plan?" He said from beside me.

The guard, and Michael, nodded whilst I stayed silent. My plan was to be as little involved as possible and then go home to pick up the pieces of my life to the best extent I could. Some things, like the blood on my hands, weren't going to go away for a long time, if ever.

"Me and Hailey are going to do some quick surveillance, then create a distraction to get the clerks away from their desks. Michael, you place the cellphone signal blocker down and loop the security tapes. The rest is up to the others to sneak round and break into the vaults. Got it?" He asked.

They all nodded whilst I put my head into my hands. Why was this happening to me? If murdering people wasn't enough, robbing a bank would make me a criminal. 

We arrived at the bank, huge and decorated. It was an old building, stonework and wooden doors - the kind of bank that held a lot of money.

Moriarty grabbed my hand, whispering "Just go with it.", before leading me up the steps. My heart was racing irregularly, swearing that he could hear it.

"Calm down." He sighed, squeezing my hand.

We entered the building, walking up to the free desk and smiling. The bank lady was a cheerful, happy person - I almost envied her, I forgot the last time I was really happy.

"Hey, I need to put some money into my girlfriends account. She spends hers so quickly!" He gushed, trying to look around but receiving weird looks from the lady. 

I tried to look guilty, smiling before taking a quick look myself. Ten cameras, the control room to the left. I squeezed Moriarty's hand ten times and he nodded slightly, not enough to be noticeable to everyone else.

"Okay, what's your name please?"

"Jim Moriarty." He said shortly.

"And hers?"

"Hailey."

"I'm going to need a surname."

I inhaled. I didn't have a bank account set up in the surname of Holmes, or my old surname either. I didn't have any money apart from what I kept in a jar on my top shelf - I was just lucky that Sherlock's rent was so low. I looked up at Jim.

"Bell. Hailey Bell."

Bell? I had never heard that name in my life, but I felt like there was more to it then Moriarty choosing a random name.

"Okay, found you. What is the sum you would like to give her?" She asked.

"As much as you can possibly transact at once."

"Sir, that's £10,000?" She asked unsurely.

He nodded boredly. I didn't even react to the sum of money - we were going to steal it all anyway.

"I'm going to need your details please."

He rattled off his details whilst I watched Mike enter the building, stopping when he saw me. I almost wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him that he would always be my brother. 

But the truth was,

He wasn't.

"Okay, all sorted. I must say, that's a lot of money to transfer when you guys are only dating." She said, mystified.

"Well, actually.." He said, pulling something out of his pocket.

A little box.

The female clerks all squealed and gathered round, the customers yelling and clapping their hands. I watched as Michael slipped into the control room. Moriarty dropped to his knee and opened the box. It was a really expensive ring - I groaned internally. Why did he make distractions so lovey-dovey? What's wrong with setting off a bomb?

Wow, there was a time when I wouldn't have preferred getting fake-asked to marry someone over setting off a bomb.

"Hailey Lila Bell, I have loved you from the second I met you. You're kind, caring, beautiful, feisty.. All I've ever asked of you is to stay with me, and here I am, asking you for the final time to stay with me. Will you marry me?"

His speech was kind of touching, in a weird way, and I guess accurate. That was my middle name, and all he ever has asked is that I stay with him - even if it was to kill people.

I pretended to look choked up and nodded as he put the ring on my finger. It fit perfectly, and I wondered if it was immorally wrong to wear an engagement ring if you aren't planning on getting married. We hugged as applause surrounded us. I eyed someone strolling out of the building with a briefcase and let go of Jim.

We walked out seven minutes later after people were done congratulating us. Back in the car, I pretended to kill myself.

"Your acting skills are terrible." Said the guard opposite.

I stuck out my tongue, pulling the ring off my finger and handing it to Jim. He pocketed it quickly, looking away.

"Who is Hailey Bell?"

"You."

Right, he probably just created an alias for me ahead of time so that we didn't have to fuss about with the name business.

It was weird that all his alias' were always my boyfriend. I guess it would come up weird if the police came and took details of what happened and saw that we weren't still 'dating'.

Mike didn't even look at me. In a weird, twisted, sadistic way, I wished I'd just said to kill him. Then I could go home.

"Where to, boss?" 

"Bakers street."

I sighed with relief, tucking my hair behind my ear and shifting uncomfortably. Moriarty handed me me something with a smooth surface. I realised it was my phone and put it in my pocket without a look. I had no idea he had even taken it.

"Someone called, but sounded boring so I hung up." He shrugged.

I frowned, pulling it out and scrolling through my recent calls list. The boring caller, was in fact, Chris, the guy I had went out with the night before all this began, ages ago now. He was boring, but sweet. If people were colours, he'd most definitely be beige.

I guess Sherlock would be blue, because blue was the kind of colour that could irritate me if I was in the wrong mood. John would be green, definitely, since it was a safe, caring colour, if there was one. Moriarty would be red. The colour of power and corruption.

Then I thought of myself, and cringed. Perhaps I wasn't all sunshine and rainbows like I made out.

In a way, I was red. But then again, I could also be white. I was walking the line too well, I needed to define my place in the messed up society. Maybe, just maybe, Chris was the right shade of beige to knock me onto the side of the angels.

Wait, what was I talking about? Angels? Since when did I say 'angels'? They were the good guys, the right guys.

"Anyone important?" He asked.

Somehow, I felt the need to lie to him.

"Nope." I said, popping my phone back into my pocket, hearing it chink against something else.

Before I could investigate, the car stopped outside of Baker's Street. I nodded appreciatively at Moriarty, even though I knew this was definitely not the last time I would see him. No, there was a lot more ahead.

I sighed, rubbing my temples and trying not to burst into tears right then and there. I got out, as Mike stared at me. The second I shut the door, the car was gone, leaving me to myself on the street.

Bakers Street wasn't home anymore, strangely. The smell of coffee and guns was too pungent; the wallpaper too ugly and peeling; the stairs too worn and dirty; and the people, too pure to be my friends.

I didn't want to go upstairs, so instead I sat on the bottom step and stared at the floorboards. None of these floorboards had a trap door to a secret office. None of these floorboards concealed the worlds best consulting criminal.

Putting my hand in my pocket, I frowned as I pulled out two things I hadn't noticed; a piece of the ornament he broke at the house, and a piece of paper.

On closer examination, the ornament piece wasn't just a fragment - it was disfigured, but I could still see it, a heart. No, that wasn't on purpose, he wasn't clever enough to break a pot and get a heart shape out of it. He probably didn't even want it to be a love heart! He probably chose a piece at random to remind me of my debt to him.

The paper, however, said something much more interesting.

Need a job? Call me.

-


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

I hit redial.

"Hailey?"

I had ran out into the street, when Sherlock's cab came into view, all the way to the shops so I didn't have to face him, a price I was paying now since I was out of breath.

"Chris, hey!"

"Oh, I thought after you know, two months, you wouldn't want to speak to me again." He said sadly.

I rolled my eyes, shivering. It was absolutely freezing, so I ducked into the newsagents.

I froze, remembering what had taken place here. The guy at the counter... Dead. I couldn't move, guilt swelling inside of me. The new till man looked the spitting image of him - his son? 

"Hailey?"

I snapped out of my daze.

"Sorry. Do you want to meet for coffee today?"

"Actually, I'm a little busy later on. Can we meet now? I'm outside the Bistro you worked at."

-

I greeted him with a hug, trying to act as normal as possible. He was quite tall, with black hair sticking out everywhere. He eyed my bandages and my own untidy hair but politely didn't mention it.

I smiled as he passed me coffee. He chose to sit outside, which was fine, but it was freezing.

"So, how's .. I'm sorry, what do you work in?"

"IT." He said shortly.

I gulped. So did my fake 'boyfriend', according to what he told the police.

"Must be fun. What's that like?" I said.

Almost as if by instinct I looked around me. No one was there, of course. I was on a normal date with a normal guy.

"Mostly fixing laptops and printers. I know, if that wasn't exciting enough, I fixed the .."

But I wasn't listening. I was looking up at the security camera worriedly, then the man busking across the street, then Moriarty walking by with a girl. Okay, I was just being a nervous wreck. Nothing was going -

Wait, Moriarty with a woman? 

They entered the coffee shop, the pretty woman laughing at something and practically hanging off him. I frowned - was he trying to make me jealous?

I turned to Chris.

"I moved out of my Mum's, and gave away my cats. I quit the band too, so you'd like me better." He said.

"Oh, Chris. That didn't matter to me. I was just busy, that's all." I sighed, catching Jim's eye as he sat down at the table opposite ours.

"So that means you got with someone and that didn't work out so you're trying to get with me." He said, annoyed.

I shook my head, grimacing as the girl laughed, super high pitched, giving me a dirty look. I stuck out my tongue.

"You know her?" Chris asked.

"Nope. Want me to get some cake for us?" I said quickly, strolling into the cafe and ordering. 

I felt the girl walk up and wait beside me.

"Hailey, right?" She asked, pulling out a mirror and applying lipstick.

"Hail."

She reminded me of a tramp and I had a strong urge to kill her, but I knew that would get me in Moriarty's bad books.

I shivered how that was the worst part of the sentence, not the part about wanting to kill her.

"You're famous at HQ, you know. Pretty badass for an angel." She quipped, undoing a button and ruffling her hair.

I didn't answer, somehow offended at the angel remark. I wasn't an angel, but I wasn't like them. Neutral, if there was such a thing.

"Isn't it funny that Jim spends so much time.."

She pouted in the mirror.

"And effort.."

She adjusted her shirt.

"And money.."

She smiled at me.

"To get you to like him back, but still at the end of the day, he's on a coffee date with me."

I bit my lip. Where was that cake?

"I would say it's surprising, but it's really not. I mean, hot, badass chick with killer curves or .. Feisty, bitchy girl with lots of mental issues." She laughed.

Cake wasn't that important, I thought, turning for the door. She grabbed my shoulder, digging into the skin with her nails.

"If I were you, I'd just move towns now and save yourself the heartbreak." She advised, smirking.

"I don't know where you're getting this delusion that I like him! He makes me kill people so he can determine what side I am on. I am literally wounded because of him, and to make it worse, I think I'm crazy too, so if you don't mind, I'd like my life back. You can have him."

I walked out of the cafe, past Chris and Jim, all the way to the flat, up the stairs and through the door, to the awaiting crowd of people.

Molly, John, Sherlock and Mary all looked at me. I collapsed on the sofa and groaned.

Sherlock broke the silence.

"Another unsuccessful date?"

I gave him a look before lunging at him, John quick to restrain me.

"That was your fault." Molly scolded him, whacking him on the head.

He gave her a grimace, apologising to me and stalking off. John let go and I sat, not wanting to talk.

"We've been thinking." John began.

Ah, so they weren't here to check if I was okay. They had been thinking.

"Maybe we shouldn't." Said Molly worriedly.

"Yeah, look how she reacted at Sherlock's comment." Whispered Mary.

"That's exactly why we're saying this!" John said.

Mary conceded, Molly still hesitant.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Hail.."

I frowned, what was going on?

"They think you're crazy." Stated Sherlock, popping his head round the door before quickly retreating.

Crazy? All of them thought I was crazy? I pushed John off me and walked into my room, closing the door before any of them could follow.

I sat with my head in my hands, before crawling into bed and trying to forget about it.

-

It had been three days, and I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. I was walking around like a zombie, only stopping to skim the employment pages for a job. Time was running out.

I tried to eat my cornflakes but Sherlock's stare was off putting, and I wanted to do was fall asleep right then and there. I just couldn't close down my body for long enough.

I knew what it was. I was paranoid, scared, and yes, even crazy. John had spoken to me twice about mental hospitals, and how 'My case wasn't extreme enough to go.' I had refused meds too many times to keep count.

I wasn't the right kind of normal, and I wasn't the right kind of crazy.

"You should eat your food. If John was here, he's have a fit."

"The sugar tastes weird."

"That's a shame." He said quickly, slightly guilty.

I was too tired to argue, too tired to even push the spoon about a bit and pretend to eat.

Sherlock tutted, opening the newspaper but obviously watching me. I downed a couple of spoonfuls and curled up on the sofa. 

He wrote something down before leaving to answer the door to John, having a hushed discussion. I didn't even try to listen, getting up to make tea. I looked for the sugar but couldn't find any, deciding Sherlock had used the last on my cereal, before watching TV boredly.

-  
The next day, I still hadn't slept, and I felt sicker. I was going to go to the hospital later if the symptoms continued, since I was constantly tripping and nearly passing out.

Sherlock gave me some cereal worriedly, John giving him the death stare. I ate half of it, the sugar sticking to my mouth. There was something off about this.

Then it clicked.

I waited until both had left and then looked in every cupboard. There was no sugar in them. Come to think of it, we barely had sugar anyway, and Sherlock was against cornflakes and sugar since it wasn't very healthy. Why was he giving me unhealthy breakfasts with sugar that wasn't there?

I reached for his notebook, skimming the pages, stopping halfway through.

Conclusion - after a three day course of trial drugs, Hailey seems to display the signs that she is not crazy. Her body, if she had a mental illness, would've reacted properly to the medicines, instead she got sick, therefore showing that she is not insane.

I couldn't believe what I read, despite taking ten minutes to do so as my vision kept disorientating. He was drugging me, through sugar! I had read on John's blog that it wasn't the first time he had tried to drug his friends.

Fuming, I stumbled down the stairs and out into the street, unsure of my direction. I walked towards the road, tripping and almost falling out in front of a car, if someone hadn't pulled me back.

"Hey, is it Hailey?"

I nodded, looking at the mystery person oddly.

"I'm Gavin, I work for Jim Moriarty, well, I start Monday. Anyway, everyone knows about you and I'm sure he doesn't want you dead so don't throw yourself under any cars."

I wasn't really listening, but I felt like heaving my guts out. I ran to a trash can and threw up, gasping and leaning on it for support.

"Are you okay? You look drugged - holy crap you've been drugged! Okay, Gavin, stay calm. He won't kill you if you walk away! But I can't leave you. Urgh, I'll just bring you to him. Taxi!"

I was drifting and out of consciousness throughout the cab ride so it was surprising that in a flash I was at Moriarty HQ. I held nothing but anger against Sherlock and annoyance that I was being brought here instead of a hospital, or at least somewhere that didn't have my worst enemy in it.

"Hailey? Oh my god are you o -"

I didn't know the rest of the sentence, since I had fainted.

-  
I opened my eyes to see the ceiling of Moriarty's office. I groaned, this was never good. Underneath me was a sofa which wasn't there before.

He was sat on his phone, having a conversation with someone.

"I'm not making any decisions for her."

He rolled his eyes.

"She's only been out for ten minutes, don't fuss. Jesus. Okay, fine. No shit. Right, whatever."

He ended the call and looked at me distastefully.

"You look like hell."

I rolled my eyes.

"I haven't slept in four days." I said quietly.

"You just slept!" He argued, spinning on his chair.

I wasn't better - I was still practically delusional and my mind was buzzing. Left arm going numb, I tried to sit up but failed.

"Why did they drug you anyway?" He smirked, stopping and facing me.

"Sherlock had a theory to test if I'm crazy or not. Of course, it proves nothing -" I yawned.

"-because your body could reject the drug for other reasons." He nodded.

"Was it them on the phone?"

He laughed, typing something and looking back at me.

"Sherlock and John have my number? No chance, they'd go running to what's his face any second."

Why was it so hard to remember Gary's name? I mean, Greg? I had an excuse, I was drugged up.

"It was Molly. She wanted to know if I knew where you were." He sighed, dragging a hand down his face and typing something else.

I was silent. Obviously I couldn't go back to Sherlock, I mean, I couldn't trust him at all. In fact, I trusted him less than I trusted Moriarty.

"Drink some of this." He said, chucking a bottle at me.

I couldn't be bothered to catch it and let it fall onto the floor. He gave me a filthy look, picked it up and passed it to me. I grinned weakly in satisfaction.

As soon as I had drunk some, I began to feel better.

"What is it?"

He shrugged, grinning slightly whilst looking at his computer screen.

I drank more, even though it tasted disgusting. Only once I had finished the bottle did he tell me.

"It's mostly water. A little vodka. Some various meds. And I have no idea what else. It helps with hangovers."

I felt confused. I was sick from meds, so he gave me alcohol and more meds to get over it. Makes sense..

"Why do you have it lying around?"

"Sometimes drinking at work is the only way to keep yourself sane." He muttered, still typing away.

I tried to close my eyes and sleep, but I kept catching Moriarty look at me. Every time he would smirk and look away.

"What?" I said finally.

"Nothing." He said.

Pause.

"I'm surprised you didn't beat up Hannah." He expressed, sipping his coffee.

"The bimbo at the cafe? Puh-lease." I said, sitting up.

"Hm."

"Hm?"

"Hm."

I yawned, drawing my knees to my chest and watching him for a minute. He had completely zoned me out, focusing all his attention on the commotion going on outside. He got up, shut the door and sat back down.

I raised my eyebrow.

"They're outraged I'm helping you."

"Hm."

"Hm?"

"Hm." I mimicked from earlier, rubbing my eyes.

"You can just go to sleep you know.." He said.

"No, I really couldn't."

"I'm not going to kill you in your sleep." He smiled, spinning his chair yet again.

"I am going to kill you though." I muttered under my breath, suddenly feeling murderous.

Why now? Why now, when Jim was making an effort not to destroy my life, did I suddenly want to ruin him?

"Doubt it." He laughed darkly.

I yawned again.

"Go to sleep."

"No, I physically can't. My body seems to think I'm going to die if I go to sleep, so it forces me to wake up." I said glumly.

Jim nodded, pulling up his sleeves and running a hand through his hair. He shut his laptop and swivelled so he was facing me.

"Let's play a game." He said seriously.

My heartbeat started to beat irregularly; my mouth dry. I was already playing a twisted game with him - and loosing. He made me want to retch, or maybe that was the drugs.

"Don't look so worried. How about firsts?"

I sighed in relief.

"Why firsts?"

"I want to know more about you."

So you can figure out which side I'm on, I thought.

It's okay. I knew what side he was on, and I knew what side I thought I was on. I had the advantage, although by slightly.

"Okay. First bike ride?" He offered.

I crinkled my nose.

"I think I was 8. My Da- foster Dad - accidentally let go when he was teaching me and I started to roll down the hill. It was funny until I fell off and spent the day in A&E." I shrugged, all the time not letting my guard down.

He smiled and nodded, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"First murder." I said.

"Hailey."

"It's the rules."

"Pick another question."

"No."

"I'm not going to answer."

"I'm not taking no for an answer."

He gave me a look, a real death look that chilled me to the bone, not because it was scary, but because it was sad. Like he regretted his whole life and every choice. I looked away.

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"You're fine any other time!"

"No, I'm not fine! Running a criminal organisation, that's not fine. Being who I am, that's not fine! Loving someone like y- Yasmin isn't fine."

"Who's Yasmin?" I asked curiously.

"The girl from the coffee shop."

"You said she was called Hannah?"

"I'm a changeable guy." He said sheepishly.

I was quiet. For once, I didn't want to leave Moriarty, because he was more human than I had ever seen him. The real Moriarty, the one I knew, he did sadistic things and he didn't help anyone and he would never let his emotions show.

"Look, I get it. I'm the bad guy. But you don't have to bring it up in every conversation."

"How do I bring it up in every conversation?" I said, shocked.

"You give me that look."

"What look?"

"The one where it's like you're so disappointed in me, it's full of hatred and sadness and that I'm the lowest of the low and you could never dream of being with -" 

He stopped and looked at me. Was it just me, or was that weird? He couldn't have meant - no, this was Moriarty. Even in my sick state, I knew there was something wrong with this scenario.

"Are you okay?" I gulped, unsure of what was going on.

"Don't act like that, it's annoying."

"Like what?"

"Like you actually care about me! That I'm not some murderer. It's like when you speak to me, you're trying to say all the right things but I can still see you hate me so there's no real reason to pretend."

I was more than confused. 

"Maybe if you tried, I don't know, not threatening everyone I know, or making me kill people, that's a good way to make me stop pretending."

"I can't do that."

I met his eyes, feeling the hatred bubbling beneath my surface, along with something else indescribable.

"You can. It's just you won't."

He was the first to look away.

"You can't seriously expect me to look at you like a person when you are nothing more to me than a bad dream."

"I may just be a bad dream but some dreams you just can't wake up from."

"Good job I'm a light sleeper." I said through gritted teeth.

"God just stop doing that!" He laughed, all tension suddenly gone.

"Doing what?"

"The thing where you answer back, it's annoying."

"It's called a conversation!"

We were silent, giving each other the evils. I was way too tired to argue more, so I lay back and asked "First friend."

He was quiet.

"None?" I asked, shocked.

"I had acquaintances, colleagues, family. Who needs friends?"

"A lot of people. They're there for you and they help you and -"

"Drug you?" He quipped, stony-faced.

I didn't bother replying. They were only trying to help, but still their efforts had led to me on a couch in Moriarty's office feeling like I was going to faint. A position I really didn't want to be in.

"Sorry." He said, almost inaudibly.

"It's okay. I'm sorry about the whole friends thing too. I guess you don't have to have friends to be happy." I replied, closing my eyes.

I thought our conversation had ended, but he continued.

"First job?"

"I worked at this bakery when I was 14. It wasn't a high-paying job since I just had to make bread. First car?"

"I've never technically owned a car.." He said sheepishly.

I was shocked - since when did Moriarty see the shame and embarrassment that made sheepishly an adverb in the things he did?

"Every car you own you have stolen?"

"I own a lot of taxis." He laughed.

"Yeah, I know."

I hadn't been able to shake the haunted feeling from Henry Costellos murder. I was a murderer, and I even killed again - except the waitress was nameless and I knew nothing about her.

"Why are you always injured? Or drugged up? It's like you're accident prone." He asked, changing the subject.

"I can't remember the last time I was physically fit. Something to do with you, I think."

"I would never intentionally hurt you."

"You already have." 

"No, I really haven't."

 

-

Finally I had fallen asleep, and when I woke up, I was back at the flat. I felt well-rested and back to my self, the desperate need to find a job still drumming in the back of my mind.

In a twisted way, It was kinda good to have Moriarty's job as a worst case scenario situation.

I got out of bed, stretching and walking into the room, where Sherlock and John sat guiltily.

"Hey, Hail. How you holding up?" John asked nervously.

"How am I holding up? Well, I'm healing from injuries, I'm considering moving out and I may have to take a job with Moriarty. What else? Oh yeah. Doofus and you tried to drug me. Other than that? Absolutely fine, John!" I said, a lot more attacking than I meant to come across.

Flopping down, I crossed my arms and frowned, looking at the newspaper, particularly the jobs section. It was blank.

"No jobs? In London?"

"Weird, yes?" Mused Sherlock, biting his lip and drumming his foot.

"Sherlock, it could be anything. There's barely any jobs nowadays." I said unsurely.

"Positivity coming from a girl who just can't keep herself away from the consulting criminal? Hm, I've obviously fallen asleep again."

"Sherlock." John said sharply, looking at me apologetically and picking up the newspaper.

"For your information, I can keep myself away from him."

"I doubt it." He snickered, an unusual sound coming from his mouth.

"You make it sound like we're newly weds." I rolled my eyes, disgust rolling in my stomach.

"Not too far from the truth is it, Hailey?"

I frowned.

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, ignoring the Primary School brainbox over there, do we have a case or not?" I asked.

John pulled the newspaper away from me, giving us a joint disapproving look. He was acting like we were his kids - natural for a new dad.

"The last thing either of you need is a case. Besides, Hailey, you need a job." John frowned.

I nodded, going into my room to change and reemerging equipped with my CV and as big a smile as I could muster.

-

Four people had already hired for this bakery job, and there was only own space left. I was feeling optimistic - it was between me and a Romanian girl who couldn't speak English.

"Okay, Hailey Holmes? Oh hey!" The busty manager said, gleaming.

Was I supposed to recognise the redhead? I shook her hand and she frowned at it.

"My goodness! You aren't wearing the ring!"

"The ring?" I asked.

"I was there the day your handsome boyfriend proposed to you at that bank! Funny place mind you. Hm, Jeff proposed to me in a restaurant but I guess it was only three stars so maybe I should've - sorry, let's get back on topic - did you break up with him?"

I gritted my teeth and tried to answer politely.

"I didn't know my relationship status counts in this interview."

"Oh. Right. Of course." She said shortly.

I yawned, still tired despite my long sleep. She looked up mid-yawn and gave me a disapproving look.

"Am I boring you?"

"No I just didn't get much sleep last night." I said shiftily.

"Late night?"

"Something like that."

"Well don't make it a habit. I don't like people who are late."

Her happy facade had disappeared.

"What days can you work?"

"Most days. Well, that's not true. I have a bit of an odd roommate and he likes to pull me out at random intervals. And then there's my - er - 'ex', he's a little strange about what we do together."

She bit her lip as the chime rang and she excused herself to go to the front desk. I looked around at the small room - a desk, a bookcase and a trash can. It wasn't the most exciting office, it didn't even have a spinny chair. 

Ten minutes past as the lady walked back in, obviously miffed. I sat in silence and waited for her to continue the interview.

"Hailey, do I like liars?" She asked sweetly.

"To be honest I don't know you that-"

"No. I do not like liars. I hate them. I loathe them. I certainly don't employ them."

I looked at her weirdly. Was she accusing me of lying?

"I'm sorry?" I asked.

"Your 'ex' just came in looking for you. Or should I say boyfriend? He told me that you had a compulsive lying disorder and that you constantly make up lies. To be honest it is disturbing that you find the need to fake breaking up with such a nice guy to get a job. I'm sorry - you're not right for this position." She said tragically, shoving me out of the bakery.

I stood there, dazzled.

He wasn't going to start messing up all my jobs was he?

Not after the whole speech about how I saw him?

Well, it was Jim Moriarty.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been updating! Very busy. I think I have up to chapter 10 written so I will try update it near Christmas

Eight

With a heavy heart, I went to try out at an office.

"So we're pretty much desperate for staff here at Mac & Co. That's all about us, any questions?" Asked Mark, with a grin.

I liked him, even though he carried himself like he was a cut above the rest. Shaking my head, he continued with the application.

"I must say, I do like you, Miss um..?"

"Holmes."

His face turned white, getting up and shooing me out the door.

"There's no position available, sorry!" He squeaked, shutting the door and pulling down the shutters.

If Moriarty wasn't involved before, he definitely was now. I had another interview at a bookshop before a final one at a coffee shop. Walking in, I felt cheerful.

"Hi, I'm Hailey Holmes and -"

I saw their faces.

"You have all been told not to hire me."

I sighed, turned abruptly and walking out the shop. I prayed, since I had arranged the interview minutes before I had entered the shop, Jim didn't have a plan to ruin this one.

A kindly gentleman greeted me, handing me a coffee. He was cute, in the not a psychopath way, with styled brown hair and a slightly wonky smile.

"Thank you, um?"

"Call me Kevin!"

I smiled, biting my lip and wondering whether he knew that who I was.

"I'm Hailey."

He didn't blink an eye.

"Hailey Holmes?" I said.

"Sorry, love, am I supposed to know you?"

"Fantastic! No, that probably sounds a bit weird to you. No, er, it's great you don't know me." I said sheepishly.

"Oh, okay, you're one of those weirdos who are sexually attracted to coffee." He said, with disgust.

Laughing at the wrong time, I spat out my drink and choked.

"N-no, I swear I'm not!" I squeaked between coughs and splutters.

"Chill, I'm just messing. I like you Hailey Holmes. Or do you prefer Hail?"

My heart stopped for a fraction of a second. Did I still prefer Hail? Or was that a force of habit, from the years of not being me? 

"I'm not quite sure what I prefer, Kevin."

"Hm, I thought you'd be the signposter for strong, independent women."

"I used to be." I said glumly.

He tilted my chin up.

"Hey, I know we've only just met, but you look way prettier when you're happy."

I smiled weakly.

"Let me show you the ropes - " he stopped quickly and looked at me.

"How about I call you H? That way it can mean whatever it means."

I nodded, but then frowned.

"H?"

"Yeah?" He said, confused.

I silenced him with my hand.

A horrible realisation had just come to light.

I was project H.

Kevin waved his hand in front of my face.

"Er, H? Are you okay?"

I bit my lip. I was so used to telling everyone I was okay automatically, but recently I had to think twice before lying. Of course I wasn't okay, but that wasn't Kevin's problem.

"Dandy. When do I start?"

\--

"Sherlock, nicotine patches are not a good substitute for dinner. I slaved away in the kitchen for ages when Mary wanted me home so you're going to sit down and eat!" Thundered John.

I wanted to laugh as Sherlock dragged himself over to the kitchen and sat, giving John death glares, but I refrained, because I didn't want to be lectured.

"How was your day Hail? I didn't see you since the newspaper incident this morning." Said Sherlock, surprisingly attempting to make conversation.

"I got a job at a Coffee shop. Five days a week, flexible hours, not too bad." I said, shovelling the pasta into my mouth like I hadn't eaten in a year.

"Bump into any criminals?" He inquired as John threw his cutlery down.

"Sherlock!"

"What?" He asked innocently.

"I am sick and tired of how you are treating your roommate. You hate her, you drug her, you make a sarcastic comment whenever she is around!"

That outburst was unexpected, but I was curious to know the answer, walking over to the sink and dumping my bowl before turning around and leaning on it.

"I dislike Hailey because she is undecided. Between jobs, between names, between people, between sides. I have no idea if she is good or bad and I'm the worlds number one detective. That, Watson, is why I dislike Hailey."

The words stung more than anything I had been called before. 

Of course, I had been told this before.

But even the consulting criminal softened the blow with a compliment.

I was extraordinary.

Ibegan to walk out, before stopping and turning on my heel.

"And no, I didn't bump into any criminals, but it's okay, I'm trying my hardest."

-  
I was in a cab, everything swamped in dark shadows. I hadn't asked where I was going because I was distracted by the blood dripping onto my lap, but no source. Freaked, I tried the handle but nothing gave way.

The cabbie didn't look back as we passed scary streets and outcast alleys. I heard breathing and more dripping as the car picked up speed.

My heart was beating, so loud and fast I couldn't hear anything, my vision clouding, only see one thing before it faded to black.

Henry Costellos empty eyes.

I shrieked, sitting up and shaking. The dream wasn't scary itself, but it replayed and replayed as I wiped my face on the pillow. Completely drenched in sweat, my ribcage felt abnormally right as I tried to regulate my breathing.

The guilt of being a murderer was finally having its consequences.

I couldn't get back to sleep, a queasy feeling in my stomach. Jittery, I reached for my phone and called up the one person who would be awake right now. As I waited for him to pick up, I twirled the fragment in my hand. The heart shape had to be a coincidence!

"Hailey?" Jim asked.

"Hey. Sorry for calling so late." I said.

"No, it's okay, I was about to call you anyway."

"Really?" I asked.

"No, nobody calls anyone at 2am." He said, voice dripping with annoyance.

Pause.

"What's happened?"

"The truth or the lie?"

"Either." He said, discouraged.

"I'll tell you one of them, but won't say if it is the truth or not."

"Shoot."

I shivered at that word, pulling the blankets over me and moving my cell to my other ear.

"I had a nightmare."

"About?"

"Costello."

"Oh."

Pause. Neither of us spoke.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Absolutely anything."

"What if I told you I was right outside your flat?"

"I'd say let me get my shoes."

-  
Yep, Hailey, that made sense, I thought. He was a killer, a pyscho and probably didn't recycle, and that really shouldn't be there but if it is never the right time to talk about the environment then when is the right time?

Okay, that was random. Sorry, I thought before cringing. I just apologised to myself.

He was indeed outside, wearing a suit as usual but pink-cheeked and wrapped in a scarf. Yep, the chilly transition between Autumn and Winter was upon us.

"3344." He said, grinning at me.

"Excuse me?" I asked, timidly.

"It reminds me of you, 3344, the number."

I nodded weirdly.

I was not dressed for this, I realised, two seconds after shutting the door, as I looked down at my skimpy shorts and baseball shirt. Frost was gathering on the windows as I shivered.

"Clever one." He laughed, stepping towards me.

I took an immediate step back.

"What?"

"Do you swear to me that nothing bad will happen to me if I go with you?"

"I can't make that promise."

"Then I can't come."

"Then you shouldn't have called me." He glared, nodding to two guys across the street.

Of course.

He brought his protection with him.

"Shall we take a walk?"

I shivered but not because of the cold. He held out his jacket for me, sighing when I refused.

"Suit yourself."

I laughed slightly as he looked at me strangely. The pun was obviously not intended. I had no idea how I could even laugh right now, it was dark, freezing and I was with Moriarty.

"Surprised you're not in the loony bin yet." He said conversationally.

"I'm surprised you aren't rotting in hell yet."

"Such heated words for such a cold person." He noted, eyeing the goosebumps up my arms.

In retrospect, not taking his suit jacket was a bad thing.

"So, what do we do to get rid of nightmares? A nice trip to a river, which washes It all out?"

He was going to drown me, I thought as we stopped by a fast flowing river, only a couple of metres wide but the currents which kept going on far out of eyesight were plenty to make me fearful.

"I want you to work at Moriarty Inc." he said unexpectedly.

I laughed, the cold and the fear in the back of my mind now.

"Why on earth would I work for you? In a criminal organisation? For YOU!" I said, clutching my sides.

"The money, the perks, and what else? Hmm. How about the opportunity to end our little game?"

It was that point that I stopped laughing. And started shaking.

"End? Like, really end?"

He nodded, face a little softer now.

"Like, none of my friends will die end?"

He nodded again.

There was a frosty silence.

"If I go to work for you, I'll just be controlled more. I'll never be free and I won't be able to quit, except this time my friends will probably be dead if I get there late, I'm right aren't I?" I said..

He stuck out his hand.

"We got a deal?"

I shook my head with tears brimming in my eyes.

"Hailey."

"I'm right, aren't I?" I shrieked, wanting to push him over the ledge.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"But you never do! Why did I have to kill those people? Who killed Jack the chef? Why am I so extraordinary? You never answer." I screamed, in a full blown mental breakdown.

"Believe me, I wish I could."

"Then just tell me." I sobbed, sinking to my knees.

"First tell me your answer!"

"No, never, no."

"Tut, tut, Hailey. Your friends lives hanging in the balance and you choose selfish and flirt with Kevin."

I gulped.

"It's not being selfish. It's being right."

"Stop crying." He said uncomfortably, handing me a tissue and holding out his hand.

I took it reluctantly, sniffing and looking out at the water. If it wasn't established at this point, I was definitely crazy, the only good thing being Moriarty didn't see it as bad.

"If you came to work at Moriarty Inc, and I promised you'd just be doing a desk job, no killing or anything would you agree?" He asked, holding out his suit jacket again.

This time I took it, although it was a little too big and smelt like him, cinnamon and vanilla and the sour undertone of iron, blood almost. I felt instantly better, but not well enough to agree with him.

"I'm sorry but I can't. I've got a job." I said, blankly.

He gave me a look. I felt like giving myself a look. Away from all the killing? Yes please. Working for him? No thanks.

"Okay. Well since that's out of the way - why did you call me?"

"I had a nightmare."

"You know what I mean. Why did you call the criminal mastermind because of a nightmare?"

I looked at my shoes, and the sky, and the river, and anything but his face, because this seemed too movie-like. On a bridge, at night, under the stars, me wearing his jacket and a lot of tears. Oh wait, of course, besides from the fear spinning between us, the psychopath and the two men watching.

"Why did you give me that piece of the vase?"

"Hailey, you've spent so long running from things that you needed reminding of what you're running from."

Oh. For some reason I had wanted a different reason for his actions - I really was deluded.

"I'm not running. Both feet are firmly planted on the ground." I said.

"Oh, you really are, sparrow."

"Sparrow?"

"Light as a sparrow."

I smiled slightly. I had forgotten about that somehow.

"Trust me if I was a sparrow I would fly far from here."

Jim didn't have to even look at me to tell me he would follow.

"A coffee shop?" He snickered, sitting down so his legs swung over the edge.

"Well you ruined my chances elsewhere."

"I think your boyfriend did." He laughed as I joined him sitting.

"What did you even say?"

"She's crazy, she's a murderer - and to top it all off, I showed them all the marks where you wrote your name."

My own scars had faded into small white lines, although the cursive 'Jim' was still visible. He rolled up his shirt sleeve and showed me the marks where my first evil action had consequences. I saw what he meant.

Suddenly, my mind sparked.

"I have that knife still. I pocketed it after I .. You know. It's still in the apartment." I said, pale-faced.

"What about it?" He asked, shrugging and throwing a pebble below us.

"Sherlock already knows I'm crazy and he's going to probably turn me in." I said, head in hands.

"Why does everyone assume you're crazy?"

"I guess I'm just that kind of person."

"That's depressing. For the record, I know crazy. And you're far from it!"

I smiled, although his words meant nothing to me. A crazy person had called me sane, how could I believe him?

"How's Chris? And Kevin, oh, balancing two boys at once you player." He joked, although it seemed kind of forced.

"I'm not playing them? Kevin is my colleague and Chris is just a bad blind date who wants to be friends."

"Ooh, a coffee shop barista and a stay at home boy, the girls must come running."

"It's not the worst things you could be."

"You could be a binwoman." He pointed out.

"A detective." I matched.

"Injured."

"Dead."

"A virgin."

"A sex freak."

"A psychopath."

"A criminal mastermind."

He stopped and sighed, almost pained at the remark.

"Come on it was a joke." I laughed, punching him lightly on the arm.

He looked at me stiffly, a gaze which then turned to stern.

"Never do that again." 

"Punch you?"

"Insult my job."

"You insulted my new job earlier!"

"That's different!"

"How?"

"You're not expected to run an expensive network of criminals."

I nodded, getting up and waving goodbye at Moriarty and chucking his coat at him. Leaving shortly after, I walked for a while, chilled to the bone, and was very happy to fall into my warm bed with my head full of thoughts which I wouldn't remember in the morning.

-

"Hailey, you're going to be late." Reminded John, pulling open my curtains.

I cringed at the sunlight, dragging myself up and rubbing my eyes. John was looking out my window, unaware that I had already crawled to the door and started to stumble into the kitchen. Warily, I poured cereal and watched as it completely missed the bowl and opted to take a granola bar instead. Dragging a brush through my hair, I pulled on leggings and a clean t-shirt and scrambled out the door.

I wasn't particularly trying to be early on my first day. I just didn't want any questions about the mess I had left behind or why the door was unlocked or why I had left the apartment so early this morning. Entering the coffee shop, I waved at Kevin, who was way too happy for a Wednesday morning.

"Hello H, how are you?"

I stared at him blankly as I tied my apron, holding a finger up to silence him. I poured myself coffee and waited until it was all gone before I allowed myself to reply.

"Not good."

Kevin looked at me weirdly. I begrudgingly put some coins on the counter and he smiled, patting me on the back and sending me to serve customers, all the while, eyeing me and smiling widely. I tried to copy his wide grin but it was hard when there were about four hundred school kids ordering the most complicated drinks on the menu.

A blonde girl and her entourage entered, sashaying up to the counter and smiling almost as fakely as me.

"One Mocha-Frappe, one black coffee, a diet lemonade, a peach ice-tea, a Feazzle-Dizzle deluxe, a green tea and a low-carb muffin." She rattled off.

I nodded, typing it in and trying not to throw up at how young and barbie-like these teens were.

"Is that all?"

"Girls, do you want anything?" She asked, clicking her fingers.

They shook their head solemnly and grabbed the cups for her. My eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets as she paid and left, not carrying a single drink. All of those were for her?

"In a better mood now?" Asked Kevin, handing me a water bottle:

I nodded, leaning on the counter. Minus Bimbo and friends, there wasn't much business compared to the earlier rush.

"Good. Like I said, prettier when you smile."

I grinned, binning the bottle and taking a towel to wipe down tables. It wasn't hard work - well, compared to my last job it was - but I still had the feeling something bad would happen. After serving two more customers, my fears were proved right.

"Hello Hailey. Coffee, black." Said Jim, leaning on the counter casually.

He almost looked .. Good. Gulping, didn't reply, turning and walking into the staff bathroom. Splashing my face with water, I tried to forget any feelings I had momentarily for this man, promising myself it was because he hadn't killed anyone recently, rather than real attraction.

Someone knocked on the door around three minutes later, and I emerged, arms folded. Kevin looked at me weirdly for the second time today.

"Moriarty wants you."

"I know."

"So...?"

"So."

Kevin nodded as if he understood and walked over to Moriarty. It was almost funny to watch this scruffy, tall guy talk to the smart, sleek criminal mastermind, because he talked to him like a customer instead of fearfully. I crept closer.

"I want her to serve me." He said sharply.

My nails dug into my palms as I watched Kevin shake his head.

"That's not possible sir, sit, I'll bring you .. A coffee?" He suggested.

"No."

"A muffin?"

"No."

"What do you want then?" He asked, desperately.

"Hailey."

Kevin looked at me and I sighed, walking over to the counter.

"Hello Sir, what can I get you?"

"The question is what can I get you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Ask the question." Moriarty grinned, leaning across the counter and giving me a knowing look.

Kevin cut across.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to order or leave."

Moriarty rolled his eyes. He had the power and the resources to be able to kill Kevin in a second, and in that moment my heart plunged deeper than when he threatened to kill my friends. Kevin gave me a job when I needed it. Kevin was cute and smiled at me. Kevin couldn't be the third person I killed. Technically the rest of the people were killed for me, by either a lunatic or a hopeless romantic, somehow I doubted the latter. Kevin looked angry at Moriarty for some reason which got me worried.

I gave Kevin a look, reaching up and hugging him tightly. He responded, hugging me back and releasing after a couple of seconds, staring Moriarty straight in the eyes.

I left them like that, starting to pour coffee into a cup, mind winding back to something he said earlier.

"Moriarty wants you."

I dropped the coffee pot all down me, the scalding liquid sinking into my skin and the mug splashing on the floor. I cursed, wiping at my leggings and looking up at the two gents. Moriarty looked less-stony faced then usual, whilst Kevin looked completely horrified.

"Are you okay H?" 

"Dandy." I said, clenching my teeth and grabbing a dustpan to clean up the mess.

Not watching what I was doing, I kneeled right on top of a thick shard of China, which broke the skin and stuck in there hard. Blood started to trickle down my leg and I sighed. Of course, I got injured everywhere I went.

"H, you're so clumsy." Said Kevin, laughing.

I laughed too whilst secretly trying to hold back a scream. Partly because of the pain, partly because of my life scenario. 

"Shall I call Watson? Who knows, maybe he would want to play a game after?" Moriarty said, but not with enough venom like he usually did.

Instead, he sounded concerned, turning on his phone and dialling a number, flipping the sign on the coffee shop door.

I stumbled to get up, body still repairing from the bashing I took a few weeks back, not to mention the majority of a coffee mug wedged in my knee. Once up, I swayed, but held my ground. John would not get hurt.

"Jim, don't. Not John."

"That leg needs sorting out." He reminded, pushing me gently but enough so I fell onto the floor.

Kevin stood there emotionlessly. It was like he'd seen it all before. He probably had, I thought as all the pieces fit together.

Moriarty knew his name.

Kevin knew his.

Kevin had worked for Moriarty.

I cringed, wanting to slap myself. Why had he gotten to everyone I knew? Blood had started to stick my leggings to my leg as I fumbled to a chair. Moriarty shoved his phone in his pocket, not even having talked on it, yet I could see John running across the street, drivers and pedestrians outraged alike. He burst in, taking in Moriarty's relaxed position and my injured one, clenching his jaw.

"What happened Hail?"

"I was stupid." I replied, not referring to my knee, hoping John would get it.

"So was I." He mouthed, reaching for the tiny first aid kit he kept on him.

He had gone through too many scrapes with Sherlock not to carry one on him.

"That's in there deep."

"Is there a way out?"

Moriarty rolled his eyes, obviously knowing what was going on. We were fooling no-one with our meaningful - empty conversation.

John shook his head, squeezing my hand and wrenching out the piece of mug. I hissed, clenching the table. It stung loads as John continued to pick out the smaller pieces of China. Moriarty and Kevin stayed silent.

"You doing okay, Hailey?" He asked, aware of the criminal and his possible accomplice staring him right in the back.

"Dandy." I said, like I always did, although the pain was sharp and stinging, John could possibly die and Kevin was definitely a member of Moriarty Inc.

I was dandy.

Absolutely dandy.

"Your face says otherwise." Said John smartly, wiping the area with antiseptic wipes.

"So does yours." I said, trying to pull on as blank a face as possible.

Maybe if I didn't let anything bother me, maybe if Moriarty thought this wasn't a big deal to me, he might not touch John.

"All done. Try not to be so clumsy next time." He reminded.

I looked down at my knee, now covered in a white bandage. It seemed like someone got injured when I was around - and most of the time it was me being injured. I used to feel invincible. Now I felt broken.

"There's a ball this Friday." Stated Moriarty.

I nodded, eyes boring into my lap.

"You are going to come."

I nodded again.

"That's it?"

I nodded once more.

Jim pinched the bridge of his nose in order to keep calm. It was infuriating him that I was scared, although that was what he wanted.

"Where's the fight, Hail? Where's the anger and the sheer desperation? Where's the good murderer I know?"

I flinched at the word. God, I hated this man. He was sick, twisted, but he almost had me fooled. I almost felt sorry for him, until this point.

"I know it's hurting you. Henry Costello, the man you murdered. And the waitress, too, yet you don't even know her name."

I gulped, looking anywhere but him. If I didn't look it went away, right? I couldn't look away forever, I realised when he stepped back into my line of vision.

"Kevin or John?"

"What about them?" I matched, lifting my chin.

"Which one are you going to kill?"

"Kevin, of course, but you already knew that and so did he." 

I stood up and walked up to Kevin, holding out my hand. He shook it.

"Sorry for deceiving you. I'm an ex-Moriartian earning my freedom."

"You do realise the last guy I fought ended up deader than a deer on the motorway?"

"You're somewhat of a villain at the office."

"I should hope so." I grinned, cracking my knuckles.

Neither of us made a move, instead backing away to our separate corners. Moriarty pulled John out of the shop and put a bar through the doors. There was no way out until someone died.

"I really liked you Kevin."

"You don't remember me?"

I shook my head, hands grasping the chair as he edged forward.

"I called you crazy that one time you took over his office."

That was Kevin? Huh. That made what I was about to do a little easier. And it proved he was right too. I smacked the chair across his head, knocking him to the floor, before sprinting to the toilets and locking myself in one of the cubicles.

There weren't any windows, only gaps. As he walked, I could see his shadow under the door. Silently as possible, I dropped to my stomach and started to shimmy under into the next cubicle. By the third cubicle he was still trying to open the door. By the fourth, he had definitely noticed. By the last, the fifth, I was halfway to freedom before he dragged me by the arms and practically threw me at the wall. I got up, ignoring the bruises easily, throwing my weight against him. We landed in a tangle in the fifth cubicle and wrestled for control. I grabbed his head and cracked it against the toilet seat, trying to run off but he caught my leg and tripped me. I swung my arm to hit him but he caught that too, grabbing my head and trying to submerge it in cistern water. I cried out, limbs flailing. My hand hit him in the face and he toppled backwards, giving me a few seconds head start to get back into the coffee shop area and create a plan. People were starting to stare through the glass, yet the doors were still locked. I hammered on the windows, trying to get them to pull the metal out but it was no use. They were dumber than anything. 

Catching Moriarty's eye, he opened his mouth as if to say something. Seconds later I was dragged back by the hair and thrown into a coffee table. The breath had been knocked out of me but I still had to continue. 

Kill or be killed.

I reached for the remnants of the coffee mug left over from Johns minor surgical operation, stabbing them into Kevin's arm. He looked away for a second as I grabbed scissors and any other sharp medical instruments and threw them at him. Kevin retreated slightly behind an upturned table, giving me enough time to grab the second pair of scissors and start to cut up my shirt. He started to throw forks and other miscellaneous goods at me, some good throws which stung and some terrible ones that ricocheted off the glass. He was not one of Moriarty's best. With the strip of material I know had, I dived for the counter, toppling over and smacking into the floor. Without a second to waste, I filled a bucket with boiling water as he advanced and threw it over him.

He barely flinched, tackling me again. His weight was too much for me to push off as he started to punch me. I kicked and squirmed but there was no way out. Only my leg got free, and after a few more seconds of punches, I kicked him in the place it would hurt most, before taking advantage of his position, reaching up and pulling the fabric round his next. He fell, so I was now ontop of him and his face was gradually turning purple underneath me. I waited until he was unconscious, not dead, before getting up and wiping my forehead. I reached for the fire extinguisher and swung it at the glass, which shattered into a thousand pieces.

I stepped into the street, glass beneath me, hair a mess, bruised, torn, bandaged, sweaty and bleeding and I smiled to the onlooking crowd.

They watched in awe as I walked away, but not away, per say. I walked to Moriarty and I handed him the piece of my shirt that had nearly killed a man.

"Moriarty, you've spent so long running from things that you needed reminding of what you're running from." I mimicked.

He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

"And what's that?"

"Me."

-

Sherlock came in, shaking out his jacket. The heavens decided to open just as he was put on the case of what happened at the coffee shop and hadn't stopped since then.

He flopped on the sofa and gave me a look. I gave him no satisfaction and carried on reading my book like a normal person, before he outburst;

"Happy with yourself?"

"Quite." I grinned, stretching my legs out.

"Do you even know how serious this is? That was attempted manslaughter! You are expected in the station tomorrow to explain all. You're facing charges!"

I laughed, reaching for my tea and taking a sip.

"I don't see what the problem is Sherlock, I was just trying to survive."

"What happened to you?" He asked in awe, running his hands down his face.

"Maybe I changed Sherlock, that's what people do."

He gave me a shocked expression as I left the room, turning to look back at him.

"What?"

"Moriarty said t- nothing. It's fine. You're fine. He's fine. You're fine together. Good. Right. Try not to murder anyone." He said, staring at the wall.

I laughed it off, but I couldn't quite shake the feeling that I knew what Sherlock was going to say as I walked into my room.

You're like him.


	9. Chapter 9

Nine 

"Hailey, I don't think you realise how serious this is!" Yelled Lestrade for the fourth time.

"You've got no proof it was me!" I yelled back.

"Oh my god, face it Hailey, you're battered, you were seen by witnesses and um, I don't know, you're mixed up with the wrong crowd! It was so obviously you."

I smiled demurely and held my wrists out.

"Cuff me."

Greg looked startled. He obviously wasn't prepared for me just giving it up.

"That won't be necessary. It appears Kevin isn't pressing charges."

"I can go then?" I asked, confused.

"Your, er, fake brother is here to see you."

I frowned - why would Sherlock be here to see me? He could just catch up with me at 221B. The door opened and it dawned on me. Of course, Mycroft.

"Why must we always meet like this?" Sighed Mycroft.

I grinned, ruffling his hair and laughing. I was really pleased to see him since I had a favour to ask.

"Mycroft, can I ask you-"

"No, let me ask you, do you think it's funny to nearly kill a man? Plus countless other injuries, plus Costello, plus that waitress? We've been watching you Hailey, and I'm afraid this can't go on anymore."

I frowned, sitting back down and staring at my hands. If they were watching, whoever 'they' were, why didn't they help? Stop me from killing those people? Stop me from going insane? Frustration swept through me.

"What can I do to stop him?"

"This man, this type of man, he does not stop at material gain. He wants power, over everyone. Eventually, he's going to get that if he's not stopped, and you're probably the way he'll do that. You've got a lot of pull in a lot of places. The famous detective, the army doctor, even me. You're his way of reaching all of his enemies, and you're just a girl."

Just a girl? I think I proved I was more than a girl, with Costello, and the others. I think I proved I was more than a girl when I kept myself sane in times of crazy. But I wasn't invincible, I was smashed down in seconds for my friends.

"What do I do?"

"Move countries."

Laughing, I hoped he wasn't serious.

"I'm serious."

With that, I silenced. Theoretically, I could move countries. A fresh start for Hailey .. Well, I guess I could choose a new surname. But my life was here, I'd already moved once to escape. 

What about my friends? The ones I kept hurting, putting in danger. What about my family? The people who faked it for years. What about my job? What job? All these reasons shouted for me to go, yet I felt tied here.

"No, there's another option."

"No, there's not."

"Mycroft, please. I don't want to go."

He looked at me worriedly.

"I met you in hospital, Hailey. You were battered and bruised and scared for your life. Over that small period of time, it almost felt like you were family. Sherlock is awfully fond of you, always chatting about your latest ventures, although that's probably because I call him weekly for updates on the scenario from his point of view, as obviously we are monitoring the situation. You are practically my sister and I have to keep you safe."

Although I felt touched, it felt wrong. This stiff man in a suit would never be my brother, nor the detective in a coat. They just weren't part of my family, but I was part of theirs, and I intended to be for a long time.

"Chin up brother, I'm a Holmes, remember? Obnoxious, smart, dashing, socially inept? I can handle Moriarty, he's child's play."

He sniffed, clearly not believing me.

"Mycroft, can you tell me the address of Moriarty's parents?" I asked quietly.

He shook his head.

"Even if I knew that, Hailey, it would be classified - and you'd only get yourself in more danger."

I nodded glumy. That was the only way I thought I could get to him. Mycroft frowned, but patted me on the shoulder, hastily saying goodbye and leaving. It took a lot of hassle to get out of the station, since a police officer named Sally wouldn't stop harassing me with questions. 

Eventually, though, I was out of there and straight to the coffee shop. It had been cleaned up, in fact it was empty. Everything inside was gone, like that coffee shop only existed as a ploy to get me to work for him. I hit my fist into the wall, ignoring the pain as anger washed over me.

I was better than this. I wasn't going to be pushed about. He didn't own me - I didn't owe him anything. He wanted the battle? He got a war.

-

"Having lunch with you is a chore." Sighed Sherlock, passing me a sandwich.

I bit into it hungrily, ignoring the disgusted looks from Sherlock. I was surprised he wanted to have lunch with me anyway - normally he went running in the other direction. We were sitting in the aquarium, on a bench surrounded by all the sea life munching on various picnic items.

"Don't you have a case?"

"Just some 'Matchmaker Villain' .. Simple to deduce, a heartbroken widower who just doesn't want anyone else to be sad. Of course, he gets irritatingly mad when his couple 'matchings' don't work out meaning he's caused a couple of murders."

I nodded, not really caring.

"Has anyone caught him?"

"No, but I think I could."

"Could?" 

I was surprised - Sherlock never used that phrase, with so much doubt and uncertainty. It was almost scary that he didn't have a definite grasp on this.

"I don't understand love, and that puts me at a disadvantage."

"Molly?" I inquired.

"The closest I have came to love."

Okay, he was more crazy than I was. Love was all around us - especially in places I didn't want to see. Even in criminals. I thought back to what Michael had said - he's met Moriarty in Ireland. Was Jim there with his family? A girl? He must've loved someone - he couldn't have grown up alone.

My phone started to ring.

"Hello, you're speaking to the cutest psychopath out there, Hailey Holmes. Press 2 to see me breakdown, 3 for me to leave London and 4 if-"

"Hailey, do you want to get coffee?" Interrupted Michael's voice.

I made eye contact with Sherlock, who undoubtedly knew who I was talking to. Michael was not the person I wanted to speak to right now. 

"Go to hell."

"Hailey, don't hang up - okay, I screwed up, yes, but so did you! Remember why we found out we were adopted?"

My heart thumped.

"That wasn't my fault."

"You didn't have to hit that girl."

"She hit me first!" I argued.

"It doesn't matter! When you went to hospital, I wouldn't have overheard our foster parents talking about our real parents medical history! We would still be living our normal lives-"

"- our life was a lie! How can you prefer the years of obliviousness to the freedom we have now?" I practically shouted, Sherlock not even throwing me a look.

Michael sighed.

"How are you free Hailey? Think about it, real hard, Moriarty has trapped us in his web of lies, lies that are much worse than the ones they told us."

"He's a bad guy but he would never lie to me. He's a good villain."

Even Sherlock was giving me looks now. I had to tread carefully otherwise I would be thrown out onto the streets by him.

"You're deluded! Anyway, my point was - I never blamed you for that! And you shouldn't blame me for what I had to do to save myself!" He sighed.

"Since when was getting beaten up a comparison to signing my death warrant?"

"I wanted for you to get hurt, at least not seriously-"

I hung up. He was nothing to me. If Sherlock was even slightly human he would've asked why I was so upset but he already knew, of course he did. Instead, I decided to continue like that phone call didn't just puncture a hole in my heart.

"What brings you to my neck of the woods?" I asked as I swallowed, pushing all thoughts of Michael out of my head.

"Firstly, I live here, and have done longer than you so if anything this is my neck of the woods, and secondly, I just wanted to check."

"Check what?"

"That you're not doing anything stupid." He said haughtily, looking at his long fingers uninterestedly.

Internally, I groaned. Of course, no job, possible psychopath (self admitted mere seconds ago, in fact), nearly arrested for assault and attempted manslaughter yesterday - my friends were babysitting me.

"You need to leave, Hailey."

"We've only just got here!" I exclaimed, taking a sip of my heart lemonade.

Oh.

Another person was telling me to go.

"I can't leave."

It was like Sherlock understood, since he decided to drop it and continue drinking his coffee. I twitched. He sniffled. There was something wrong - with him? 

He had about four nicotine patches on, so I knew he was preoccupied. He wasn't acting normal either. Since when did he jiggle his knee like that?

"London is a big place. Full of people." He noted.

"So where are the people?" I asked, shivering as I noticed nobody was with us.

I was getting goosebumps along my arms and I could hear a cracking sound. 

"Sherlock?"

He snapped his head my way, eyes colder than ice.

"What?"

"Do you hear it?"

He nodded, watching as a crack started to form on the glass.

"Freak Sea Life Accident?" I asked, backing away and rattling on the door handle, which wouldn't budge.

He barely had time to shake his head when, as if in slow motion, the tank exploded, throwing Sherlock and I into the wall. Water started to fill the room, halfway to the ceiling by the time I had opened my eyes, treading water to keep me afloat. 

Why did things like this keep happening?

"Sherlock, the door! Try open it!" I said, trying to lift my chin so I didn't get a mouthful of water.

Fish and other creatures were swimming soundly around us, unaware of the panic. I was grateful we hadn't eaten in the shark room - that would've been a whole other issue. My head bashed against the ceiling as I realised that I didn't have a lot of breathing time left, not at this rate. Sherlock swam to the surface as water continue to push us upwards.

"Hailey, your killer boyfriend has a mean edge."

"I don't think this was my boyfriend." I said, as water filled my mouth.

All too soon we were submerged, before I could even take a breath. It had only been about thirty seconds, but the immense pressure and assorted sea life made it hard to hold in my breath. I choked, accidentally exhaling and my lungs filling back up with water. Lunch had an all too sour edge and I almost felt defeated. I was going to drown, willingly, minus the fight, after Costello, after Moriarty, after being cheated my whole life. Hailey Holmes, found dead at the bottom of a fish tank on a Tuesday morning. Tragic, really.

Black spots were beginning to form in front of my eyes, but not enough to obscure my vision. I had about twenty seconds of consciousness left, but after a mere ten I saw light burst in, and we came crashing out of the door, a tidal wave of water, fish and human making contact with the floor.

But we were alive.

Wet, oxygen-deprived and smelling like fish, yet alive.

"Hailey! Shit, someone get her a blanket or a doctor or some kind of help!"

I opened an eye, shutting it again.

Of course, Moriarty.

"Why would you do this?" I groaned, coughing up water.

He helped me sit up, passing me his coat but I refused to take it.

"Really? Refusing help after that?"

I sighed, taking his coat gingerly.

"Why would you do this?" I said, crawling over to Sherlock, who was wringing out his scarf.

He looked at me momentarily before gingerly reaching out for a hug. I accepted it, although it was awkward and Sherlock complained under his breath the whole duration. That was a major leap for Sherlock and I, almost sentimental if we hadn't nearly drowned.

"Why did you do it Moriarty?" Demanded Sherlock, outraged and suddenly protective.

"I didn't do a thing." He said, holding his hands in a surrender.

"Haven't had enough of taunting her? Do you want something more than her hatred? An ally? A lover?"

He cut him off at 'lover', a red tinge surely appearing across my cheeks. Why was I embarrassed at that?

"No, but it's linked to that. I got a note delivered, saying she was going to drown. I couldn't stand the thought of her dying."

We all stared at him, even his workers.

"I mean, dying without me playing a part." He expanded.

I nodded, although my heart hitched slightly. Autumn and wet clothes didn't mix, I thought, as Lestrade showed up with foil blankets and a small squad.

After a quick search, he came back, shooting all three of us dirty looks. Sherlock was clever, Moriarty was bad and I was .. Hailey. He didn't like any of us.

"It's always you three. We're pinning it down to freak accident - oh alright, give me your theory Sherlock." He sighed, sitting down on the concrete next to us.

Sherlock didn't say anything, letting the sun dry his face. I didn't even realise I was crying until I was completely dry, Lestrade giving me a slightly less look of hatred. Sally was nowhere to be seen - probably somewhere on her knees with Anderson.

"Isn't it obvious?" He said, sighing.

Moriarty gave him a deathly stare. It was weird to think they had reached some kind of neutral ground over not wanting to kill me and wanting to kill me. It was almost nice, but still strange. By now, Sherlock would've set John on him.

I shook my head, pulling the coat closer round my body.

"The Matchmaker Villain."

Jim nodded like he understood - he probably did - whilst the rest of us where confused. What did a serial killer have to do with this?

"I think, this man, does not want Hailey with another man. He wants her with.. that." He said, gesturing to Moriarty.

Or maybe not such a neutral ground.

"Please Sherlock, keep it in your pants." said Moriarty.

"I'll try, I don't want the Matchmaker Villain after me." smirked Sherlock.

Then it dawned on me.

"Wait, are we seriously skipping over the fact I nearly drowned because I ate lunch with Sherlock, and not you? Wow, his pairings are just not my style, sorry JM."

"Is it JM now? Charming."

Sherlock stood, holding out his long fingers for me to use as leverage to get up. I couldn't quite make eye contact with Moriarty, not trusting myself. What were these weird feelings inside my stomach? I tried to push them down, hoping Sherlock wasn't good at reading feelings. Damn, what was I thinking? Of course he could read feelings although he barely had them.

"See you later, Hailey.' Said Jim, smirking as he got up too.

I groaned, despite the feeling of a match being lit inside me.

"Do I have to?" 

I dragged my eyes away from his mouth to his own pair, which were burning dark with something new, far from hatred.

"Oh, and, here you go, for your dress." He said, pressing a credit card into my hand.

"Dress?"

"Friday. I'll send a cab."

"What's the pin?"

"What do you think, Hailey?"

And he was gone.

-

I felt wild. I knew there was a lot of money on this card, and I wanted to spend it.

"Geez, that's a lot of money for such a small piece of material." worried Molly, who had stuck through half an hour of dress shopping already.

It barely covered my bum, hardly classy enough for a black tie event. Even if it was, Moriarty was the kind of guy that wouldn't stop staring at my assets. I started to pull the dress off my head, retreating into the changing room again.

"Bit weird he's paying for your dress." Chatted Mary, who was exhausted from the evening shift with Laura.

"Yeah, I know. I guess I am representing his scumbag company though, can you pass me the black dress?" 

I wiggled into it, as they continued to chat loudly.

"Nice of him." Said Molly, doubtfully.

"He's a horrible person with a lot of money, big deal!"

"Mary, he was actually very nice-"

"The time he faked a relationship with you to get to Sherlock? Yeah."

Molly sighed and probably nodded.

"Do you think he's just getting to Sherlock through you?" she asked, seconds later as I emerged.

"He wouldn't do that, would he?" I asked, trying to figure out if I could walk in this dress if I wore a million inch heels.

The neckline was way too revealing, I decided, sighing and skimming through more rails. There wasn't anything good enough! I stomped my foot in exasperation.

"Why do you care so much?" Scrutinised Mary.

"Because... I've never been to an event before."

"Is that the only reason?" doubted Molly.

"Look, guys, I don't care! I'm not even going to make an effort. It doesn't matter what I turn up in, look at me, I have bruises everywhere and my hair just kind of.. Stays here. I'm just going to tell him I'm ill, with something contagious. That's a better plan, right?" I panicked, trying not to look at my reflection.

Molly and Mary shared a look which I couldn't describe apart from saying it was the kind of look you gave your puppy the first time it peed in the house. I was flustered, bothered and couldn't find a dress.

"Why are you so bothered?"

"I'm not!" I practically screamed, storming back into the changing rooms and getting back into my baseball shirt and jeans.

I clumped out seconds later, grumbling and walking into someone. I looked up to apologise ... Okay, fine, I looked up to tell at them, and it was the one person I didn't ever want to see.

"Do you stalk me or something?"

He grinned, shrugging.

"Came to see if what you're gonna wear is good enough, Cutie."

I shuddered, pushing past him. He caught my arm and dragged me back three paces.

"Now, Hailey, my little sparrow, wouldn't want Mary and Molly getting hurt, would we?"

I shook my head, cussing. I thought we were out of the threatening friends stage.

"Michael, you didn't have any emotional attachment, right?" He said awkwardly.

"Not really, not after he tried to hand me in to you." I sighed.

Then I realised,

My stomach curled. Why was there past tense in there?

"Moriarty." I said shakily.

"Mhm." He said, looking at his shoes.

"You better have a bloody good reason for using past tense."

-

Ten minutes later, after attempting to murder him about a million times, we sat quietly with the curtain drawn in one of the cubicles.

I wasn't crying.

"What happened to him?" I asked slowly.

"People are dropping like flies."

"That makes no sense."

"Neither do you."

Pause.

"This new guy, this Matchmaker villain, was it him?"

He gave a nod as I sucked in a breath. I wanted to cry, but somehow it was like I had been disconnected from my emotions.

"Why was Michael there?"

Moriarty shrugged.

"I told him about you nearly drowning. He tried to take revenge. He got killed."

The word wrenched at my stomach in a way it hadn't when I was the killer.

"I guess I get it."

Moriarty looked at me, not even surprised I was connecting with the killer.

"You've worked so hard towards a goal, you can't just give it up, even if people have to be killed. Kill or be killed, that's what you said." I noted, leaning my head against the wall.

He didn't say anything, because nothing needed to be said. A few months ago, I was scared of a man who was a pyschopath, criminal and a maniac, but now I respected him. Besides the countless things he'd done to me indirectly, I'd formed a friendship.

"Damn." He growled, hitting the floor with his fist suddenly.

I gave him a questioning look.

"I want to let you go, so badly."

If I was a dog, this was when my ears would perk up and my tail would start wagging. Since I was a human, I settled for a slightly less sad look than before. After all, my foster brother was dead.

"But then you say things like that, I remember that you are the most extraordinary thing ever to be seen." He said, looking a bit odd crammed into a small changing room with me.

I nodded despite being scared of the silence.

"Skip dress shopping. I'll send you something. You wouldn't have gotten the PIN anyway."

I got up to leave, turning on my heel quickly.

"3344. It reminds you of me."

He smiled and nodded, not making any attempt to move from his position.

"You're so clever, Hailey."

I almost spoke again, wanting to say the words that I couldn't even think in my mind, but stopped myself.

"When did this happen? A few days ago I was scared of you. I thought I was going to die, my friends were going to die, but now people are really dying and I'm not even scared of you."

He shrugged again, smiling slightly.

"Maybe you're not the same person as you were a month ago."

-

"Oh my gosh, Hailey, I don't see how you're not upset!" sniffed Molly, once we were all at 221B.

She hadn't even met Michael.

"Yesterday you were almost drowning and now.. Oh gosh." She hiccuped.

I patted Molly's back, wondering how Sherlock could be with such an emotional person. I scolded myself then - this was Michael! My protective, caring older brother who was gone now. I should be sad! I should be mad!

A small voice in the back of my head sounded, voicing all the thoughts I couldn't.

He wasn't my real brother. He tried to give me up to Moriarty. I was close to murdering him when I had the chance. He was nothing to me.

I felt sick, rushing to the bathroom and locking the door, sliding down it and looking straight ahead. This was not the first time I had felt like this - it was similar to the time I found out I was adopted.

I was at the point I sickened myself. 

I had been there for a long time.

-

"Hailey, just pick a dress." Sighed Sherlock, obviously irritated.

I wanted to play the dead brother card, yet it was way too early. Mortiarty had sent three very pretty dresses which I did not want to wear and the ball was in an hour.

"You shouldn't go, I should come with you, you're practically still a child!" Said John, fretting as usual.

I gave him a look.

"Are you really suggesting after I took the life out of two people and caused multiple deaths including the one of my brothers, that I cannot handle Moriarty?"

John was silent. So was Sherlock. So was I.

"You can't even pick a dress." He pointed out.

I grabbed to closest one to me.

"Yes, I've picked one. Leave, I need to change."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I'VE KEPT YOU WAITING SO HERE YOU GO HEHE

Ten

"Hailey, your ride is here." Sherlock said.

I looked out of the window anxiously.

"There's nothing there."

"Wait for it." Sighed John, sitting down with his tea.

221b was officially a tea kind of place, by the amount we drank daily. I had only gone through two cups today - a new record. But what if Iiked coffee and I just didn't know it because I'd never tried it. What if coffee was my new favourite beverage? What if coffee was my saviour?

Then again, I did like tea.

I watched as the car pulled up, surprised as ever at Sherlock's almost supernatural abilities.

"How?" I sighed, ruffling his hair and sucking in a breath.

"Call us if anything happens, okay?" Worried John once more.

I nodded, the smile on my face not nearly convincing enough.

He frowned.

"Seriously, John, I'll be okay. I'll go, meet some people, get some drinks, come home before midnight. Wouldn't want to be stopped by the curfew." 

I rolled my eyes. They were like my parents! The word 'parents' twinged at my heart. I wouldn't know what parents felt like.

"Be careful." John said, fretting.

At this rate I wouldn't ever get out the door.

"I can handle Moriarty!"

"Can you handle a serial killer who likes you two together?" Sherlock asked, getting up.

A honk sounded.

"Don't be ridiculous, I bet Moriarty just made that up." I said, brushing it off and turning for the door.

"He's real, very real. They got him on tape, I was going to head down and check on it later tonight if you wanted to stay..."

A honk again.

"Bye Sherlock!" I said firmly, stepping out the door and shutting it.

I kept my hand on the handle. Of course, I could go back in and hide. Risk a bunch of snipers aimed at my apartment and killing my friends, my family. Or I could go to the stupid party and try to enjoy myself.

Gulping, I walked down the stairs into the street, trying not to trip on the heels. I chose to wear a soft blue dress, that stopped mid thigh. I liked it, I had to admit - surely Moriarty didn't pick it himself?

I got into the car, cringing slightly. This one was almost identical to the one me and Henry has tussled in. Moriarty gave me a smile, concentrating on his phone. The driver turned round and I startled, almost thinking I saw Henry's face.

"The Ball?"

Moriarty nodded and shook my shoulder.

"You look pale - are you okay?"

I nodded weakly, perhaps I wasn't as in control of my emotions as I thought. I pushed all thoughts of guns and dead men and cabs to the back of my mind and decided to strike up a conversation.

"What do I need to do at this party?"

"Smile and look pretty, I'll do the talking."

"Why can't I talk?" I said, frowning.

"Can you really talk to someone who murders multiple people daily and has a lot of money about investing in my criminal business without wetting yourself?"

I clenched my fists.

"You're treating me like I'm an invalid. I am strong, don't act like I'm not."

"I didn't say you weren't, I'm saying you're not the most ideal for getting potential investors."

"I could be a good villain if I tried." I pouted.

Moriarty snickered.

"You have a stupid face."

"You have a stupid face."

Our conversation drew to a close like it had started; awkward silence.

"You're not so bruised anymore."

"I'm not being beaten up every day. Oh wait, I am, because in this week alone you tried to make me murder Kevin and I nearly got drowned at the aquarium." I snarled, crossing my legs and sighing.

He smirked.

"What now?" I asked.

"You've been so accepting recently. It's good you have a bit of spine back."

"You like that I want to slap you?"

He smirked again.

"A lot actually."

I grimaced, looking out the window as we drew up to the grand building. Moriarty laughed at my transfixed face seconds later when he opened my door.

"It's a fancy building, I could buy you hundreds, get over it."

"At least buy me dinner first." I laughed, taking his arm.

It was so unnatural, joking with him rather than fearing him. It was also kind of nice. I figured if I stayed on his good side, I wouldn't be killed tonight.

"One day I will."

"Is that a date?"

"Do you want it to be?"

I stopped.

"Of course not, but you owe me dinner now."

"You look really nice tonight."

I laughed, before giving him a second glance. He looked like he was serious.

"Thanks.. You too." I said awkwardly.

He smiled, lifting his arm up for me again. I didn't take it.

"Do I have to go inside?"

"That's where the Ball is."

He gave me a look.

"Hail, after everything you're scared of a dance?"

"I've never been to one before." I said, sheepishly.

"It's easy, if someone asks you to dance, then you say yes."

"But there's so many fancy criminals in here - what if they find out I'm not one of them?"

"Oh Hailey, really? You're not one of us? You've killed, threatened, thieved - you're more an devil than an angel now."

I gulped, throat tightening. Why was I still in London? I should be heading for Barcelona.

"Maybe I am." I smirked, squaring my shoulders and linking his arm once more.

It was funny how such a small smile from Moriarty could set my whole stomach alight.

-

Inside was even fancier. Tables lined the outer edges of the room, each adorned in flowers and gems. They were probably real, knowing Moriarty. An open space and polished floor was immediately in front of the stage, which had some sort of string band playing soft melodies.

People were milling about, big burly men squeezed into suits and women with arched eyebrows and tiny waists clinging onto their arms. Nobody was wearing blue, mostly red or black - I stuck out like a sore thumb. A waiter walked past Moriarty and I, balancing hundreds of canapés on one tiny plate, as we descended the stairs into the lavish party. It was not a criminal party on first appearance - it looked like something out of a magazine.

"Don't forget to breathe." Moriarty helpfully reminded as we approached a group of people all wearing suits.

"Grayson, Charlie, Cameron, Sena, this is Hailey Holmes." Moriarty said, straight off the bat.

I could've sworn he just wanted investors, not to show me off like a prize pig at the county fair.

"Not related to Sherlock Holmes I hope." Laughed the short guy named Sena, extending a hand.

He had a death grip compared to the others, and once we had all shaken hands something dawned on the taller Cameron guy.

"She's the little minx who took down Costello, good on you! He was one tough cookie, thank god he's gone - I owed him a lot of money."

I tried to laugh along with the others but my throat felt like it was closing up. Two minutes into the party and I was already panicking.

Moriarty squeezed my arm.

"Can you get me some wine?"

I nodded gratefully, walking over the the bar and waiting. If I wasn't so used to the scary presence of thugs, I wouldn't have dared to even leave Moriarty's side, since the bar area was full of them.

"Hello! You look awfully pretty to be a criminal!" Smiled the girl next to me.

She had blonde hair and buck teeth but the real focus was the way her eyes looked almost panicked. Was she here against her will too?

"I'm Lucy Costello, nice to meet you...?"

"Hailey."

I gulped - did she know me?

"Moriarty's girl? I've heard so much about you! To be honest I only do PA work for him, I'm not a real criminal. Only last week I took over from Noelle. She had a small psychotic meltdown and left."

Lucy babbled on, spooling pools of words that I couldn't listen to. I had killed her brother, and she didn't even know.

"Of course my husband got killed, so I was prime candidate.."

Husband, not brother. Was that worse or better? Either way, I had to get back to Moriarty before she discovered I was the reason she got the pity job.

"Hey, bartender, can I have any wine in my hands as soon as possible?"

"Steady on, we don't want you getting hammered ten minutes in." Laughed Moriarty, reaching for the glass placed in front of me.

He had his small entourage we met minutes before minus Sena, all of them looking between me and Lucy.

"Does she know ...?" asked Moriarty awkwardly.

I shook my head, grabbing the wine glass from his hand and decking it.

"I'll fire her before you join, I promise." He said, rubbing my shoulder reassuringly.

I motioned for another drink but Moriarty rolled his eyes.

"Slow down cowgirl." He laughed, leading me over to a new set of people who had just finished dancing.

One was a talk, dark-skinned man. He was incredibly handsome with a single tattoo on his hand which was probably Chinese. He looked successful - he looked dangerous. The lady next to him was short and blonde, with a menacing grin. Whether it was from fear or not, she looked troubled.

"Moriarty, my man! It's been a while since you have been to the pitch!"said the man with an American accent.

"I know it's been a long time, Sid -hey, Hailey, you like baseball?"

I nodded sheepishly, listening to Sid babble on about baseball. He didn't even look like a criminal, in fact he and his partner looked like a normal suburban couple.

"So then I got kicked out of my league team for stealing, after taking just one trophy to sell. Lucky I moved here and met this lovely scamp." He finished, smiling at her.

"How did you two meet?" She asked, holding his hand, trembling.

"Why don't you take this one? I have to go talk to Cameron."

I watched as he walked off, almost wishing he would stay with me. God, I was pathetic. Hailey Holmes, the destroyer of criminals, couldn't even navigate her way through a dance. I was better than this - I was stronger than this!

"Well?"

"I was putting up flyers for the bistro I worked in and he knocked me over."

"Love at first sight." sighed the woman.

"Love? Please. He's tried to kill me too many times to keep count, plus family members and friends almost getting killed."

"Rachel tried to kill me the first night I broke into her house. She cooled off when she realised I was returning her wallet I stole. We've been in love ever since." smiled Sid.

Why couldn't I have that kind of relationship? Where my guy didn't try to steal from me or kill me? I get stuck with Jim Moriarty, who could kill me without a second glance. What was I talking about, Moriarty wasn't my guy. He wouldn't ever be.

"That's cute." I smiled, trying to work out where the nearest exit was.

Rachel smiled, Sid smiled. We were all smiling as it just got awkwarder.

"Hey, Sid, can you get us ladies a drink? I'm sure Hailey wouldn't want to go near Lucy again, not with what she did to her husband." Laughed Rachel, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me with insane force.

She had a slightly panicked look in her eye as she looked around and lowered her voice.

"Get out now."

"The party's only just started!" I said calmly, trying not to look scared like I felt inside.

I was Hailey Holmes, careless, brave, exciting. Scared wasn't one of my emotions.

"Not that. You need to move away to somewhere he can't get you. All they bring is destruction, Moriarty most of all. Do you think I'm in love with Sid? No! I'm scared of him, but it's too late for me." She spoke, waving her fingers so I could see the wedding ring.

"I'm not going to leave. I'm going to stand my ground, I'm brave."

"Don't try to be a hero! This is real life. Your life is at risk."

"I'm far too ready to die." I said harshly, eyeing Jim.

"You need to leave."

Oh joy, another person telling me to leave. London just didn't like me. Wherever I went, he would follow me. Things like this lead me to believe there was a little bit more than just murderous feelings between me and him. I wanted to ask for her help, but saw Moriarty approach.

"Seriously, nothing good will come out of your relationship."

"What are you talking about, we're just colleagues?" I gulped, smiling at him.

He nodded stiffly.

"Sid has your drinks."

We walked over, him not following. When I looked back, he was frowning. Did he hear anything I had said? I hoped he was okay as I drank the full glass, half of another and went over to him again.

"Hi." 

I felt shy. Why was I shy all of a sudden? 

"Enjoying yourself?"

"How many glasses of wine have I had?"

"I'm not sure." He said solemnly, although I was pretty sure he had been counting.

"Stop me before I get really drunk, okay?" I laughed.

"Back there, when you were talking to Rachel - are you really ready to die?"

The coldness in his voice sent me off track for a second. Did he have to bring up such a morbid subject? Wait, was he asking me so he basically had my permission to kill me? I questioned how drunk I really was.

"Can't be much worse than tonight has been."

"Huh?"

"Look around, do you know what I see? Family and friends of a guy I killed, people who respect me and hate me and dislike my roommate. I don't fit in here at all, isn't that flipping fantastic?"

"Hailey, stop."

"Why?" I huffed.

"You're too drunk." 

He gestured for me to smile, and I did, weakly and fakely. The sense of fear I initially had against him was returning, slowly. And he wasn't even trying to kill me anymore.

Moriarty smiled at me, all eyes and cheeks.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. It's just good to see you happy!"

I bit my lip, a little weirded out by that. Surely he would prefer to see me unhappy, since Moriarty's sole purpose in life seemed to be to depress me. Of course, I wasn't really happy - he had forced me to smile.

"Would you like to dance?" A random guy asked.

Moriarty had a straight face, but when I turned to look at him he gave me thumbs up and turned for the bar.

"Um, no thanks. I'm here with someone."

"Dance with me."

"No thanks, go away."

"It's polite to say yes." the guy reminded.

"Is it polite if I kick you in the balls?" I growled.

He balled up his fists.

"Psycho bit-"

Moriarty stepped in front of me, like I couldn't fight my own battles. He was wordless, yet the guy shook his head and backed off. I was about to thank Moriarty but he had already disappeared. Loneliness tugged at my heart strings the second he left, but my powerful self pushed that weak feeling down, deep down. I stood awkwardly for a second before   
I felt myself being dragged away by Sena, one of the suited guys I had met earlier.

"Don't go picking fights! Any other day of the week, sure go ahead, it's our lifestyle. But not in a fancy get together! It's supposed to be peace between criminals." he reprimanded.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and shivering.

"And not someone like Jakob, too." Sena laughed, hitting me hard on the back to brighten the mood.

It was supposed to be an act of friendliness and good spirit, but it hurt and I flinched whenever he moved next in fear.

"He was creepy." I stated, holding my back.

Sena laughed - at least one criminal got me. I shivered at that thought, I was relating to a criminal! Seriously, I needed to get a grip on reality. Once the ball was over, I needed to get away from all this. I was good, right?

"He just wanted to dance." sighed Rachel, who had appeared out of nowhere, at the same time signalling to me to run.

I caught sight of Moriarty. He was talking to a few girls, looking happy. Why did that irritate me? He wasn't going to replace me, I was 'extraordinary', not that it would matter if I was replaced - freedom from this life, at last! But it was the prospect of him finding love that bothered me. Urgh, I was drunk, I thought as I drained another glass. When he caught my eye, he winked.   
He made me blush from head to toe yet I still stuck out my tongue and a certain finger for him, before tuning into the conversation.

"Honey, what are you doing with your hands?" Asked Sid, following closely behind.

She fumbled a bit, not really giving an answer before I spoke, hoping they didn't notice the red tinge on my cheeks.

"She's directing me to the loos." I smiled, dragging her off with me for once.

Sena called that they were the other way, but I pretended not to hear and pulled Rachel to the same spot as before. We were drawing a fair bit of attention to ourselves.

"Keep your cool, Rachel!" I sighed.

"I'm sorry, it's just - seeing someone like you not take the chance to get out of this life breaks my heart."

I ran a hand through my hair and walked back into the mass of people, looking for the safety that was Moriarty. When I couldn't see him, I headed for the bar area and ordered yet another drink. Lucy was cradling her fifth drink and crying silently.

"He loved these events. He would always get thrown out for drunk fighting and then take me for ice cream." She sighed.

I squirmed uncomfortably.

"They didn't even let me see his body. Or our kids. I had to explain to our kids," She cried softly.

I could see Moriarty across the room, smirking at me. Gingerly, I patted her in the back with one hand whilst the other tipped a few tequila shots into my mouth. Getting up to leave, she clung to my arm.

"Nobody even told me how he died." She sobbed.

I shook her off my arm, beginning to feel sick and dizzy. I couldn't do this Pushing past Sid and Rachel, I ran to the exit and waited at the taxi rink, head in hands. Moriarty was hot on my tail.

"Hey, Hailey, are you okay?"

I shook my head, wanting to burst into tears.

"I can't do this anymore."

"You don't have to stay at the party."

"I meant this - this whole messed up criminal life isn't for me." I shouted.

Moriarty took a step closer.

"You're doing fine."

I found some comfort in his words, but not enough.

"I have to leave." I said, hailing a taxi.

"Why?" He said desperately, grabbing my hand as it started to rain.

Was I crying? Was he? I couldn't tell as I got soaked slowly.

"You. Between wanting to kill me and defending me and making me kill people and whatever the hell the looks in there meant and Kevin and this bastard of a Matchmaker Villain, and what the proposal meant and paying for my dress and using me as your girlfriend alibi.. I can't stay and become whatever you are."

"Leave the party, fine, take time to cool o-"

"Moriarty, I'm leaving the country." I choked, trying to get him to let go.

"But I need you!" He begged.

"For what?"

He was quiet. I sighed.

"Like I thought." I said sadly, turning away.

I was definitely crying and he hadn't let go.

"I'm a psychopath. I haven't ever had a friend, let alone a girlfriend. I murder for a living. My nights consisted of one night stands and Jack Daniels until I bumped into you. Hailey, you're the only thing stopping me from killing people."

I frowned.

"What?"

"Apart from a few examples that you had to learn, I haven't killed for my own pleasure since I met you. I wanted to be better for you. You made me want to be better."

"I don't want you to stop killing people."

That sounded bad but I wasn't going to change what I said. I couldn't imagine a boring good Moriarty. I didn't want that.

"Then what do you want from me? Look at me, Hailey. This is me in the raw, without weapons or entourages or the fear that surrounds me everywhere I go. Talk to me."

I looked at him, first at his hands that were still desperately clasped round my wrists. Then to his arms, where my name was protruding. I looked from his shiny shoes to damp shirt, then finally to his eyes, which were as open and honest as a child's.

"Am I safe with you?"

He blinked, dropping his hands.

"No."

I nodded, turning around and grabbing the car handle.

"But I can try my best to protect you. I can step in front of Pervy guys and watch how much you drink and safely take you to rooms full of people who probably want to kill you because I know that as long as you're the careless, brave, exciting Hailey Holmes, you won't have to be ready to die because I'll be there."

I had used those three words less than half an hour ago, not out loud. Moriarty knew a lot more than he was letting on. Rain was still pouring down, chilling me to the bone.

"I can be better, for you. Come work for me, all you'll have to do is sit in my office and do nothing. Great pay, good protection, and easy way to keep you on our side. And I would never try to kill you again. If you stay."

He was grovelling for me. I looked upwards, tears in my eyes. Was  
I falling for him?

"You are the only person I can empathise with. I like you a lot. Would you please just come back inside?"

I gulped, trying to sort out my thoughts. He was a psychopath, yet he had - well, not feelings, but something adjacent - for me. He had gone from not feeling to almost feeling. Empathising. I only had one thing to say to him.

"How much have you had to drink?"

And I got into the cab.

He got in too.

"Get out."

"I own your ass Hailey, don't make me get mean to make you stay."

"How exactly do you 'own my ass'?"

"All your friends are here, wouldn't want something to -"

"Oh my God, give it a rest! I'm not scared of you anymore."

He gave me a look and changed tactics.

"Matchmaker Villain."

The name sent chills up my neck. Sure, I had told Sherlock and John that I could handle that measly serial killer but that was more to it than that. I had to get Michaels revenge, for my own piece of mind. I was a murderer once, why couldn't I be one again?

"I can help you find him." insured Moriarty.

I turned to face him.

"What makes you think I'm going to go looking for him?"

"You will." He smirked.

I sighed, undoing my seatbelt and getting out the car. Smoothing down my dress, I wiped my face and tried to make my now-drying hair a bit less rat-like. He arched his eyebrow, following suit and holding out his arm. When I didn't take it, he decided to put his arm round my waist instead, and we returned to the party.

Grayson was first to greet us.

"Well, look how turned up again, we thought you had left! Listen, er, Moriarty, I can discuss any new leads in the Matchmaker Villain case on Monday afternoon but not any other day. The missus thinks that I should spend more time with her. Sometimes I loathe her, but as a happy-go-lucky travel agent like she thinks I am, I have to play along."

Gradually, I turned my attention away from Graysons serious tone. I caught the eye of Lucy, the feeling of nausea sweeping over me again. It hurt that I finally found myself fitting in with these monsters, even though I felt like I stood out. Sena came up and swung an arm round me.

"Get off me."

Sena removed his arm, narrowing his eyes. I lowered my own and turned back to the conversation. Was I too snappy? Was that exchange rude? Moriarty pulled me closer to his side, hand gripped tightly round my waist. Music started to play as they finished their conversation.

"Want to dance?" He asked, turning to me.

I was slightly shocked - Moriarty was asking me to dance?

I nodded, dumbfounded, taking his hand and walking into the middle of the floor. I could see other couples doing the same thing. We began to dance slowly, the weirdest thing I had ever seen: criminals, dancing, in couples, like newly weds.

I looked everywhere but Moriarty, but he began to talk as we continued to dance.

"You'll be happy at the company. You just have to be around, file a few things, stop me getting bored - who knows, maybe you could learn to fight."

I laughed. "Right, can't wait."

He smiled as we turned.

"I don't want you to be unhappy."

Pausing, I stopped in my tracks.

"What?" He asked.

"Why are we still doing this? You're not attempting to kill my friends, you're not threatening me, you're giving me a chance to join your world. We're not enemies anymore, you're trying to make us colleagues. Was this your plan all along?"

This time, he was the one looking everywhere but me.

"Answer me, for fucks sake."

"We'll talk at my place, not here."

We began to move again, me suspicious, the moment lost. The song was beginning to come to an end.

"What makes you think I'm coming back to yours?"

"Because you've had a lot to drink, and I know for a fact Sherlock isn't home." he smiled, pulling me closer.

I was still concious, my mind was still working, I was still fairly aware of my surroundings. We parted, him disappearing with a wink back to his group of minions, and me over to the bar.

Rachel sat next to me.

"Shots for both of us!"

Okay, she was a little drunk; was it safe for her to be sitting on a stool that had no back?

"You bring me two shots? Man, I'm trying to get hammered. More hammered. Nailed. Well, only by my husband but I'm sure we can go out back handsome - "

"Rachel." I said sharply, knowing he was watching her.

"H - Hailey." She hiccuped.

"You need to stop drinking now, you're going to do something you regret."

"Ooh. Check Mrs Moriarty out. She thinks she's so good because she can handle her drink, well, let me challenge you to a thinking contest. A binking contest. Drinking contest."

Her 'Mrs Moriarty' comment pissed me off, setting the competitive fire off inside me. I narrowed my eyes, tipping one of the shots down my throat as she clapped with glee.

"These things are always better drunk."

I nodded, feeling the warmth spread through my body.

"Another round sir. And another. In fact, keep going until I forget my name."

One. Two. Three. 

"I think this could be the best floor I've ever fallen on." laughed Rachel.

I was gesturing for another shot, desperate to forget about men in suits and murders and detectives and foster parents and myself.

Four, five and six went down easily, and I was subconsciously scared of alcohol poisoning. Sid made his way over to us, hauling Rachel off the floor as we both collapsed laughing. However, he was not impressed.

"This is not responsible, Rachel, it's embarrassing."

"Yeah, Rachel, you're embarrassing."

She gave me a rude gesture as I downed my seventh and woozily got up.

"I win!"

"N-no. No. I win. I get to go home with this guy." She said, pointing at a guy that wasn't Sid.

She quickly noticed, pointing to her other side and giggling. "I meant this guy."

I laughed, feeling all happy for no reason. I wasn't going to attempt to drink anymore, but the bartender leant across.

"What's your name?"

"Hailey Holmes." I said.

Huh, I wasn't drunk enough. He passed me a shot knowingly and I continued the competition solo as Sid dragged a handsy Rachel off.

"Hailey, how much have you had to drink?"

"Only about four inches." I hiccuped, grabbing onto Moriarty's shoulders for support.

"Four inches? Okay, okay, we're going home now, sweetheart."

I wrinkled my nose, throwing my arms round his neck and burying my face in his suit. He roped his arms round my waist and sighed.

"Don't let me die."

This time, he wrinkled his nose, pulling away from our strange hug thing.

"Why do you think you're gonna die?"

"Because I'm not safe with you."

"Do you not feel safe with me?"

"Who? You. Me. Let's go to Africa!"

He led me out by the hand as I spouted a bunch of nonsense. When we got in the cab, I was close to falling asleep, but he kept me awake.

"Hey, no, don't sleep, stay awake, talk to me."

"I'm thirsty."

"I'm not giving you any more drink."

"Well you suck."

He was silent as I watched the city pass in bright lights. I felt like a million stars were igniting inside my body; I hadn't known the pleasure of being drunk until tonight, but my unconscious mind had taken over.

"That was a lie. A big one. I don't think you suck."

"Mhm?"

I leant over and grabbed his arm, hiccuping as I did so.

"I think I'm in love with you."


	11. update

I've received some awful comments on another work that have made me reconsider fanfic 

the way some people can be so merciless and cruel about a portrayal actually breaks my heart

 

so I'm going to leave this site and come back in 7 days to delete this book. thanks for every nice thing that's been said about 'hailey'.

enjoy it while it's still up


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